Inseverable Fates
by Anthony Devon
Summary: Sequel to Descent into Darkness. The wizarding world has changed since the fall of Voldemort. New alliances have formed, new threats unveiled, each seeking their own agenda. And amidst the chaos, Hermione learns that some things cannot be forgotten.
1. An Unlikely Captive

_Alas, the sequel to Descent into Darkness. No longer bound by Harry Potter canon, Hermione and Killian's story continues within a world lost in chaotic transition. Lord Voldemort may have been vanquished, but as was once pointed out ... there will always be Dark wizards ..._

_As always, a very special thanks to my one and only original editor for the this series, Flowerpagoda. Without her, this story would never have begun, let alone grown into anything of significance. I would also like to thank my readers. Without you, I am simply a madman with fanciful stories dancing around in my head. Not that such a life would be a bad thing ;)_

_But I digress ... Moving on ..._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy!_

_- Chapter One -_

_An Unlikely Captive_

It had been fourteen years since Lord Voldemort met his end in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Fourteen years since a prophecy about a young boy, marked as an equal by his enemy, came to fruition. Fourteen years since the wizarding community breathed a collective sigh of relief. And fourteen years since Hermione's life took a turn that forever changed her future—a future that had always been just short of everything she ever wanted.

_Hermione Weasley_. Even now, after all of these years, it seemed foreign and surreal to her. She had kept her maiden name within her work for the Ministry. It was a name she had strived to make respectable. Even so, she was now a Weasley. _Hermione Granger_ was nothing more than words on a nameplate sitting proudly on her desk in the office for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Words. Words and memories of a life once lived.

"I'll be heading out then," said a man as he passed by Hermione's office. "Will you be much longer?"

"Not much," Hermione lied. "Goodnight, Winston."

"Goodnight, Ms. Granger," Winston said with a tip of his hat as he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the hall.

In truth, Hermione had no intentions of leaving anytime soon. She had work to do. She always had work to do. This night was no different. At least, that is what she attempted to convince herself.

The world had changed. With Voldemort's defeat, the line between good and evil became a blur. Allies and enemies … It was nearly impossible to tell the difference. A perfect example lay with Harry and Draco. Against all perceivable odds, they now worked together as Aurors for the Ministry. Partners, as it were. If someone had said to Hermione that Harry and Draco could spend more than a moment together without going at each other's throats, let alone work in tandem, she would have thought that person to be mad. Yet, there they were. And although their relationship appeared merely business, lacking any notable social bond, its simple existence was bizarre just the same.

Recently, Harry and Draco made headlines in the Dailey Prophet when they tracked and captured a significantly noteworthy outlaw within the wizarding world. This enemy of the Ministry, like many others, blurred the line. A simple step in one direction or the other can alter a person's standings in the eyes of the law when one wanders through the middle gray. But in these times, there could be no exceptions. You were with the Ministry or you were against it. There was no middle ground. And as much as Hermione detested such a standard, she was bound by her duty.

Realizing that she had put it off for as long as she could, she closed up her books, filed her papers, extinguished the candles on her desk, and made her way to the door. With a heavily contemplative sigh, she exited, closing the door behind her.

Once outside her office, Hermione heard Harry and Draco locked in conversation at the end of the hall. They were standing by the door of a disused storage room that had recently been converted into a temporary holding cell. To date, it was rarely used. Most often, those captured by the Ministry were held and released, or immediately sent to Azkaban. In this case, however, the prisoner was detained on orders from Harry under the pretense that the prisoner would be transferred immediately the following morning.

Being the current Head of the Aurors Department, this was something well within Harry's power. Those powers aside, however, it was widely known that this move was made under heavy pressure from Tiberius Mourdim.

Tiberius was the current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The upper class wizard held significant influences within the Ministry … Many friends, many allies.

Very recently, Tiberius was assaulted by the prisoner who now dwelled within the makeshift holding cell. It was this attack, in fact, that forced Hermione to sign off on the manhunt that would eventually lead to the assailant's capture.

Hermione smiled as she walked over to Harry and Draco. She still found it funny to see them together.

"Hello boys."

"Hey, Hermione," Harry greeted warmly. Draco merely gave a curt little nod. It was better than what he used to do. "What are you doing here so late?" Harry went on.

"Yeah, shouldn't you be off declaring someone else an enemy of the Ministry?" Draco asked with a sneer.

"Knock it off, Malfoy," Harry interjected.

"Go spit, Potter," Draco spewed. "You watch; it will be one of us next."

"_You_, perhaps," Hermione said curtly as she glared at Draco, although it was clearly an idle threat.

Hermione felt the blood rush to her face. Her anger, however, was not entirely directed at Draco. In truth, she agreed with his frustrations. She was beginning to loathe her position within the Ministry. Everything she did, she did with the belief that it was for the betterment of the wizarding world. But something did not feel right about it anymore.

"You're not planning on going in there, are you?" Harry asked, watching as Hermione eyed the door behind him.

Hermione did not answer. She did not have to. Her eyes told the story, and Harry was far too observant to miss it.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Harry offered.

"I appreciate your concern," Hermione said with a smile. "But one of my duties is to check on and evaluate all prisoners held by the Ministry."

"This is different and you know it," Harry urged.

"Too dangerous, I suppose?" Hermione teased. "He's restrained in his cell, is he not?"

"Yes," Harry agreed reluctantly. "But that's not exactly the—"

"Then I shall be fine," Hermione said simply.

"With most any other prisoner, I would be inclined to agree with you," Harry went on. "But—"

"Harry's right," Draco piped in suddenly. His sincerity caught Hermione off guard. "It's not a good idea … Perhaps you can check on him in the morning."

"In the morning he will be sent to Azkaban," Hermione dismissed. "Now, both of you can put your machismo away. I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. In fact, why don't you two take a break? I'll monitor this watch."

Harry and Draco exchanged glances, neither of them saying a word. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. Draco did the same. Whatever it was that they wanted to say, it was clear that they could not come up with the right words.

"Hermione, I think—" Harry finally began before Draco cut him off.

"Never mind, Potter," he said. "Let's just go."

"What?" Harry asked as if it was the most ridiculous statement he had ever heard.

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco pointed out. "She's pulling rank. Just let her have her little moment. It's not like he's going anywhere."

"No," Harry agreed cautiously. "I suppose he's not."

Hermione watched the scene play out before her. How remarkably odd. Then again, everything was odd. Why should Harry and Draco be any different?

"Are you sure?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I'll be fine, Harry," Hermione assured.

"All right," Harry said as he and Draco started off down the hall. "We'll be back in a bit then."

Draco turned back and smirked at Hermione. "Don't go and do anything stupid. I hardly doubt it would be your head on the line."

The two continued down the hall, whispering to each other as they turned the corner, their footsteps fading in the distance.

_Define stupid_, Hermione thought as she turned her attention to the storage room door. She slowly walked over and placed her hand on the ornate iron doorknob, willing herself to go through. After a moment's hesitation, she opened the door and entered the room.

Inside, the area was dark and uninviting. The walls of stone were lined with various containers. Several candles on dusty shelves cast a dim light across the damp confined space. In the center of the room, a cell of iron bars was built into the stone. Within the cell, Hermione saw the shadowy outline of a man kneeling, his hands and feet shackled, his head bent forward, his dark hair hanging over the hallowed features of his face.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," the man said without looking up.

The words cut through Hermione, tearing at her as a flood of emotions swelled from within. She promised herself she would not give in. She promised herself that it was in the past. It was foolish for her to believe it possible … possible to forget everything that had happened … possible to forget _him_.

"Killian …" she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she forced back her emotions with every ounce of constitution she could summon. "What have you _done_?"

_up next ... Chains that Bind ..._


	2. Chains that Bind

_Alas, I forgot to mention that Inseverable Fates, like the previous stories in the Hermione/Killian series, is a reboot. Since its original posting, it has been edited and updated. Now the story is in a much more complete/pure form ... or at least that is what I keep telling myself._

_I do apologize for the delay in posting the second chapter. This whole NATO thing here in Chicago has kinda thrown me off this last week or so. We have people dressed like clowns, people wearing masks, people marching, people throwing things, and all of the aforementioned universally chanting what I can only assume they believe to be clever little rhymes about their views on politics and society. _

_But I digress ... I mean seriously digress ... Moving on ..._

_Hopefully the next chapter will follow promptly ... If the clowns don't get me, that is._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply. _

_- Chapter Two -_

_Chains that Bind_

There he was. Battered and broken. Chained and restrained like a common criminal. His long coat was worn, his clothes dirty and ragged. To see him in such a manner pained Hermione. How had it come to this? She could still see the boy she had once known in the rough, tattered figure that knelt before her. Even after all the years that had passed them by, she could still see him.

"Do you have a purpose?" Killian asked coldly, his eyes remaining fixed on the floor. "Or are you merely here to stare?"

Hermione was surprised to find herself suppressing a smile. Even in his current confinement, Killian remained arrogant and quick with his tongue. Her moment of humor melted away when he looked up. His bright green eyes locked with hers. There was noticeable swelling on his cheek and dried blood in the corner of his mouth.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, locking the door with a flick of her wand as she advanced towards the cell.

"Your mercenary henchmen do their work well," Killian answered.

"They're not henchmen … And they're not mine," Hermione defended. "They were hired by the Ministry to aid the Aurors."

"Yes, hired by the Ministry," Killian agreed with spite, "and working upon _your_ orders."

"Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to _sign_ those orders?" Hermione asked, placing her hands on the bars of the cell as she looked down upon the Ministry's high profile prisoner.

"Apparently not difficult enough to dissuade you," Killian answered, dropping his head once again.

"You left me no choice," Hermione countered, hating herself as she argued her position.

"No …" Killian replied, much to Hermione's surprise, "... I did not."

She was beginning to think that Harry was right. Perhaps it was a bad idea for her to see him again. Perhaps she should have kept her distance. All the pain was coming back ... All of the pain she believed she had put behind her.

As much as she fought it, a tear streamed down her cheek. Her only solace was that Killian did not see. She quickly wiped it away and attempted to regain her composure, finding it a difficult task.

"How did we come to this?" she asked.

"We live the lives we are given to live," Killian answered simply.

"No," Hermione argued. "You have lived the life you _chose_ to live! It could have been different! _Everything_ could have been different! We …" she caught herself before continuing. "You chose this life. And look at what it has done to you. In chains … restrained …"

Hermione's voice broke off as she, once again, had to collect herself. Killian looked up at her, stood, and slowly made his way towards her until the chains that fastened him to the floor were taut. Hermione looked at him, now only a few feet away, closer than she had been to him in what seemed like an eternity.

"_These_ are not the chains that _bind _me," he professed.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted so desperately to deny it, to lie to herself. But she knew it was only in vain. She was close enough to smell the scent of his skin.

"Killian …" she whispered as another tear streamed down her face.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of the doorknob twisting several times in an attempt to gain access to the locked room.

"You must hide," Killian said, his voice suddenly quite serious.

"It's just Harry and Draco," Hermione dismissed.

"It is _not_ Harry and Draco," Killian insisted.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, noticing the concern on Killian's face. "How could you know that?"

"Do you still trust me?" Killian asked in return.

"Trust you?" Hermione asked, eyeing Killian quizzically.

Killian did not answer. His eyes told Hermione everything she needed to know. Even though everything she had come to learn while working for the Ministry contradicted her actions, she reluctantly made her way behind a stack of dusty chests in the corner of the room and hid herself from view.

Just as she did, she heard the lock click and the door swing open. From the shadows of the threshold, Hermione saw Tiberius Mourdim enter the room. She had certainly not expected this. It seemed a bit odd that the head of the Wizengamot would be paying a visit to a prisoner at such a late hour. Even putting aside that the prisoner was his assailant, Tiberius' presence was highly inappropriate.

"We meet again, Killian," Tiberius said as he strode over to the cell. "Although I much prefer this setting. Far better now that the _Hunter_ has been caged."

"What kept you?" Killian asked with casual defiance as Tiberius confidently paced back and forth along the outside of the makeshift prison cell. "I was beginning to bore myself."

"Oh, yes," Tiberius mused. "I am sure that you anticipated my visit. Azkaban being nothing more than a shadow of its former glory since it was rid of the Dementors, you can see why I favored your detainment here. I hardly think it would have been a day before you managed your escape from that glorified museum. But here," he went on, "under the watchful eye of the Ministry ... Yes, I think this suits you much better."

With that statement, Tiberius flicked his wand, locking the door and barricading it with several crates and heavy chests. A knot arose in the pit of Hermione's stomach as she watched the scene unfold.

"And what to do now?" Tiberius asked with a smile. "You have become quite a thorn in my side."

"I do what I can," Killian returned.

"You retain your arrogance well," Tiberius commended. "To the end, as it seems. Very admirable."

"Save yourself the pain, Tiberius," Killian offered. "Just tell me where he is."

"Bah!" Tiberius laughed. "There is more to intimidation than simple _arrogance_ and _bravado_. You are no longer in a position to make threats against me. As impressive as your skills may be," he went on, removing Killian's silver-topped shillelagh from his robes, "you are at quite a disadvantage without your weapon of choice."

Now Hermione was becoming truly concerned. Though not entirely sure as to what was happening, she knew that something was wrong. Why was Tiberius there? Why was he brandishing Killian's staff like some form of trophy? It took every ounce of constitution she could summon to hold her ground. _Trust him_, she thought. _Trust him_.

Tiberius stopped pacing and turned towards Killian. "I believe it is time that we said our goodbyes," he said simply. "I must admit that I have put a great deal of thought into this. How to do it? Things such as these must be handled delicately, so as not to arouse suspicion."

Tiberius drew his wand upon Killian. A moment later, Killian's chains began to twist and turn, wrapping themselves around his throat, slowly constricting, choking away the air. Hermione made a movement from behind the chests, but noticed Killian give a slight shake of his head as his eyes met hers. She thought him insane for the gesture? How could he want her to do nothing? It was maddening!

"I came to the conclusion that a noble suicide would seem appropriate," Tiberius explained. "The great _Killian Finn_, captured and imprisoned, unable to come to terms with his crimes, hangs himself with his own restraints."

Killian smiled, laughing to himself under his choked breath. Tiberius seemed entertained at the sight, coming ever closer to the cell.

"You find it amusing, do you?" he asked, confident in his position.

"I wonder …" Killian struggled as the chains continued to tighten. "When your men … disarmed me …" He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. "Did they bother to check my staff … for a wand?"

Before Tiberius could react to the question, Killian drew a wand from the sleeve of his long coat. An instant later, he was free of his restraints; the strangling chains falling harmlessly to the floor. Tiberius drew his wand to react, but was thrust back into the far wall near the barricaded door.

Killian's next cast was deflected away as Tiberius regained his footing and returned fire. The room became engulfed in explosions of electric energy as the duelers faced off, nothing but the bars of the cell separating the two. Hermione remained in place, unsure of what to do, unsure as to what was even transpiring.

After casting off an arrant curse, Killian blasted the door of his cell. Shards of metal erupted outwards, raining down upon Tiberius, who raised a shield in defense. Killian followed the shrapnel with another blast of energy that penetrated the shield and enveloped Tiberius. Unable to withstand the attack, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot collapsed to the floor, his wand falling from his hand.

Slowly and painfully, Killian exited his cell and stood over his fallen adversary. Killian was weak and wounded. Hermione could see it in his stance. He tried to hide it, but she had seen it before. As proud as he was, Killian was still mortal.

With a wave of Killian's wand, Tiberius was pulled from the floor. He hovered mere inches from the ground as his eyes came level with Killian's.

"Now ..." Killian started, "... of my previous question."

"Do you really think that I am just going to _tell_ you?" Tiberius asked with a choking cough. "Just like that? You truly are as _mad_ as they say!"

"Insanities aside," Killian pressed on, "I will have my answer one way or the other."

"How long have you searched?" Tiberius goaded. "Do you not find it strange that you have achieved nothing but failure in your quest? Tanzar is a ghost! No one knows where he is! At least no one who would speak to you! The penalty for betrayal is far greater than any pain you could cast upon me! I would welcome death in its place!"

"Tanzar is a thug," Killian spat. "I find it difficult to believe that he could instill fear in a wizard of your status."

"Tanzar is less than a thug," Tiberius agreed with spite. "But he has sworn his allegiance to a far greater power."

Killian paused, lowering his wand. In doing so, Tiberius was released from Killian's hold and, once again, fell to the floor. It appeared that Tiberius' revelation was unexpected, or in the very least, unwelcomed.

"Then it's true," Killian asked rhetorically. "He's building up his forces again. He's coming back."

Tiberius merely smiled as he looked up at Killian.

"Tanzar has joined him," Killian went on. "Who else?"

"Look around you," Tiberius said with a condescending laugh. "Can you really tell me that you know who is allied with anyone anymore? Where are your allegiances? Can you even say? We live in a world of chaos. _He _feeds on chaos."

From her hiding space, Hermione saw Tiberius reaching for his wand. She thought that Killian had noticed, but found out too late that she was wrong. His thoughts were still distracted. With a flash of white light, Killian careened across the room, crashing through the chests and crates that blocked the door.

"And those who swear allegiance to him," Tiberius said as he stood and raised his wand to strike, "shall be saved!"

Suddenly, a stream of red energy collided with Tiberius. The blast thrust his body into the stone wall with such impact that several stones fell loose, smashing on the floor beside his crumpled body.

Hermione stood there, her wand drawn, her hand shaking. She was not even sure what she had cast. It all happened so fast. What had she done? Tiberius was lying in a heap across the floor. The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Had she attacked a _traitor_ or protected a _criminal_?

The sound of the door being forced open from the outside snapped Hermione out of her daze. She looked over and saw Harry and Draco push through the debris as Killian stumbled to his feet, shaking the cobwebs from his head.

Harry looked over at Hermione, noticing her drawn wand. Following the line of her wand, he saw the unconscious body of Tiberius on the floor.

"Well, that wasn't exactly according to plan," he surmised. "But it worked out."

_up next ... The Serpent's Lair_


	3. The Serpent's Lair

_Another day, another chapter, another ... I don't know, something else I guess. Sorry ... It's really late and I'm rather exhausted. And apparently there is something trapped in my skull that is trying to pound its way out. Seriously. Like a sledgehammer cracking upside the interior of my cranium. I'm now going to bed._

_But I digress ... Moving on ..._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply. Enjoy!_

_- Chapter Three -_

_The Serpent's Lair_

Hermione stood there, Harry's words ringing in her ears. _Not according to plan?_ What plan? What, _exactly_, was going on? Hermione had just witnessed the head of the Wizengamot attack a prisoner within in the confines of the Ministry, and Harry was acting as though the event was commonplace.

As her mind searched for reasoning, Harry and Draco helped Killian to his feet. The room was littered with debris left over from the duel that had transpired only moments before.

"Easy, Killian," Draco offered as he braced his life long friend by the arm.

"I'm fine," Killian insisted, pulling away and wobbling slightly on his feet.

"Looks as if you were right," Harry said. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No," Killian admitted, looking over at Tiberius' unconscious form. "I'm afraid I confirmed something far worse."

"How far worse?" Harry asked.

Hermione could stand it no longer. She broke from her position and advanced on the three of them, her wand still out and at the ready.

"Everyone just stop!" she exasperated. "What's going on here?"

No one answered. Harry looked slightly ashamed. Draco and Killian simply stood fast, not that this surprised Hermione in the least.

"Someone had better start explaining things," she went on. "Harry?"

"Hermione," Harry started off with his hand up defensively. "It's not what you think."

"Oh, really?" Hermione scoffed. "And what is it that I think?"

"Oh, lower your wand," Draco said with a sigh as he took a step forward. "We all know you're not going to do—"

Contrary to Draco's request, Hermione directed her wand upon him, pressing it firmly into his throat. Draco stopped, his eyes widening as he retreated sheepishly.

Harry stepped between Hermione and Draco. "It's all right," he assured. "We're working together."

Killian retrieved his staff and replaced his wand within. He and Draco then retreated into the cell and began conversing in hushed whispers.

"Working together?" Hermione could not believe what she was hearing. "Harry, how could you … I mean … _Harry_?"

"Hermione," Harry went on, placing his hand on Hermione's wand and gently forcing it down. "Let me explain."

Harry did not have to explain. In truth, Hermione was not entirely sure that she wanted to know. As it was, she was already beginning to put the pieces together.

"So his arrest," she asked, her eyes dancing between Harry and Killian. "It was all just a ruse to get him inside the Ministry?"

"When Draco and I arrived at the scene," Harry explained, "Killian had already fought off the Ministry's bounty hunters ..."

"They're not bounty hunters," Hermione defended.

"They may as well be," Harry argued.

"They were hired to help the Aurors," Hermione went on. "To help you."

"The only thing they've done is put a black eye on our department within the Ministry," Harry said. "They're nothing but muscle—unrefined and dangerous."

"Not dangerous enough, apparently," Hermione said under her breath, looking at Killian over Harry's shoulder. "How did you even know he would be there?"

"Draco told me," Harry answered.

Draco. Hermione should have known. Of course it would have been Draco. Who else would Killian turn to? The thought of him turning to Draco sent a dagger through Hermione's heart. It should have been her ... It could have been her.

"Draco told me that he knew where Killian would be," Harry went on. "When we got there and saw that the Ministry's … _men_ … had arrived before us, Draco started going off about how the Ministry had been infiltrated. I didn't want to believe it. But then Killian agreed to surrender himself to us. Just like that. No questions. I found that to be a bit odd. Even with that though, I still didn't put much faith in Draco's accusations. Not until Tiberius insisted that we keep Killian in the Ministry's holding cell."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because that's exactly what Killian said he would do," Harry answered.

Hermione looked at the fallen Tiberius. She, too, did not want to believe it. Corruption inside the Ministry. It had happened before, but she did not want to believe it could ever happen again, not on her watch.

"Harry," Hermione reasoned, "the Ministry has declared Killian an outlaw. Do you know what this means now that it appears you've taken sides with him?"

"I'm not the one who stunned Tiberius," Harry pointed out.

Hermione's expression fell. The reality of the situation was setting in. She was relatively certain that Tiberius had not seen her, but that did little to change what she had done.

"So this was about Tanzar," Hermione asked rhetorically. "It's still all about Tanzar."

"Sort of," Harry answered, almost reluctantly.

"Sort of?" Hermione asked quizzically.

"Well," Harry began, scratching the back of his head, refusing to make eye contact, "Killian believed that Tiberius was linked to Tanzar."

"And?" Hermione leaned in.

"Tanzar is a follower," Harry explained. "You know that. After Voldemort fell, Killian came across rumors that Tanzar may have allied himself with someone else."

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"Now don't get all up in a fuss about it," Harry dismissed ineffectively. "We don't know for sure. This is all based on back alley gossip and rumors."

"_Who_?" Hermione asked again, this time much firmer.

"Gaius Mideus," Killian answered as he and Draco, once again, joined Harry and Hermione.

"The _Exile_? You can't be serious ..." Hermione almost laughed. "Lord Mideus was defeated and cast away over two decades ago … In a entirely different part of the world."

"And in the absence of Voldemort, the world has fallen into chaos as it tries to rebuild," Killian explained. "What better time to reappear … and recruit?" he added with a glance toward Tiberius.

It could not be true. Tiberius Mourdim in league with the Exile? Hermione tried to sort it out in her head. Members of the Ministry under the influence of a Dark Wizard that had not been seen since before she began as a student at Hogwarts? It seemed impossible.

It was a long and bloody war that led to the eventual defeat of Gaius Mideus in his previous campaign. Since that time, he had essentially disappeared. Whether or not he was even alive was something of a debate.

Regardless if Hermione chose to believe Killian's assertions, it really did not matter. The situation was still the same, and whatever Hermione did next would clearly change to the course of her future.

"So what's your plan now?" she asked.

"First off," Harry answered, "we need to get Killian out of here. Tiberius will be awake soon and we can't be here when that happens. And since the Floo Network is probably being watched … Reducto!" he cast, blasting a sizable hole in the wall, opening the room to the crisp night air.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked as three broomsticks appeared through the hole in the wall with a flick of Harry's wand.

"Leaving," Harry answered as he climbed upon his Firebolt.

"What?" Hermione watched Draco and Killian climb upon their respective rides. "To where?"

"It's better that you don't know," Harry reasoned.

"Not to worry," Draco said with a smirk. "Someplace safe."

Harry hovered in the air and began toward the gaping hole in the wall. As Draco and Killian made to follow, Hermione stepped in front of them.

"I'm going with you," she said, the words escaping her lips before she had even processed the thought.

"Hermione ..." Harry began, but was cut off as Hermione whirled around at him.

"I am the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she pointed out. "And as such, _you_ are under _my_ charge. I'm going with you!"

"What about Ron?" Harry asked. "You and the family are supposed to be going on holiday with the Weasleys."

"As are you," Hermione countered.

"I sent Ginny an owl," Harry explained. "Told her I had some business to attend to, and that I would catch up with them."

"Then you can send another owl on my behalf," Hermione said.

"We've only three brooms," Draco said. "And I know you don't travel with one, so I doubt there's another one handy."

Hermione stood there, saying nothing as she looked between the three conspirators. Killian closed his eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he looked to Hermione and extended his hand. A moment later, she was on the back of his broom as the four of them swept off into the night sky.

. . .

It had been quite some time since Hermione had been on a broom. She had forgotten the sensations of the air rushing past her as they turned and swayed in the winds. It was a feeling of controlled recklessness, a life carefree. She hated it in her youth, but now it seemed different.

As she watched the scenery sail past below, the nostalgia slowly began to slip away. Before they had even reached their destination, she knew where they were headed. The landmarks were unmistakable. A few moments later, the brooms came to rest outside the forbidding shadows of Malfoy Manor.

Hermione dismounted and stood behind Killian. It had been many years since she had set foot inside that house, but the horrors were still ingrained in her mind. She looked to Harry for any sort of reaction, but found none. It should have come as no surprise to her. He and Draco had been working together for a few years now, and it seemed likely that Harry had been to the Manor several times.

"Come on," Draco said as he strode towards the entranceway. "Let's not all stand about like a mob of Muggles."

Killian followed Draco. After taking a good look about the grounds, Harry followed as well, but not before he turned back to Hermione, shrugging as he forced a sympathetic smile.

"Damn you," Hermione said under her breath as she joined Harry.

It was quite late, so Hermione was a bit surprised to see that the house was not in darkness. Quite to the contrary, candles were lit up and down the halls, and the aroma of meat and bread emanated from the kitchen.

As they stood in the foyer, Narcissa entered from the far hall, greeting them warmly with open arms. Hermione could not have felt more uncomfortable.

"Draco," she welcomed with a smile as she embraced her son, something that appeared to make Draco feel almost as uncomfortable as Hermione. "You've made it back in one piece. And Killian," she went on, embracing Killian with equal fervor. "Dear, dear Killian … What a mess you've found yourself in."

Killian returned the embrace, but said nothing.

"Harry," Narcissa addressed with a curt nod as she stepped back from Killian.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry returned.

"And Hermione," Narcissa added. "_Weasley_ now, isn't it?"

"Yes ..." Hermione's voice seemed to catch in her throat. "That's right."

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see the tension in Killian's face. He would not look at her. She felt exposed. Her stomach sickened. _Weasley_. It was her reality, but she did not want to think of it in the present company.

"Well then," Narcissa offered with a wave of her hand. "Your father is in the parlor, Draco. He has been expecting you. Most of you, at any rate," she added with a glance towards Hermione.

Draco nodded before heading off. Harry, Hermione, and Killian followed Draco down the hall and into the parlor. There, Hermione saw Lucius sitting in his leather chair, his grandson sitting on his lap, playing with some form of crystal ball. Astoria was sitting on a small couch along the wall, reading quietly when she saw Draco.

"You're home!" she beamed as she leapt from the couch and threw her arms around her husband. "I was beginning to worry!"

"Oh, calm yourself," Draco dismissed. "I told you it would be fine."

"And it appears that you were correct," Lucius said. "All certainly seems to be fine. Astoria," he went on as he stood, holding his grandson in his arm. "Be a good girl and take Scorpius off to bed. I believe there is some business to discuss."

Astoria went to Lucius and took Scorpius into her arms.

"Say goodnight to your father," she said as she walked back towards Draco.

"Goodnight, father," Scorpio said with a yawn.

Draco responded with a simple nod, brushing his hand through his son's hair. Astoria and Scorpius left, closing the parlor door on the way out. Hermione glanced about, visions of Bellatrix holding a knife to her throat in a maniacal rage floating in and out of her mind.

"Are you well?" Lucius asked of Killian.

"Well enough, sir," Killian answered with respect.

He was lying. Hermione could see the exhaustion in Killian's posture. She believed it to be something of a testament that he was even standing at the moment.

"I must say," Lucius said with a condescending smile, "I was not expecting a visit from the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The house is clean of all contrabands, I can assure you. But feel free to search if you like."

"That won't be necessary." Hermione forced a smile of her own. "Not at this time, at any rate."

"Excellent," Lucius returned with a nod. "I can assume we have not all gathered here to socialize. We have stories to tell, have we not?"

"It's not good, father," Draco started.

"In what sense?" Lucius asked.

"I followed your lead," Killian explained. "Tiberius Mourdim and Tanzar are linked, but not as we thought."

"Your look of concern is disturbing to me," Lucius said, his eyes narrowing. "What have you uncovered?"

"Gaius Mideus is gathering forces together," Killian answered.

Lucius stood silent for a moment, his eyes wandering about the parlor. Any doubts that Hermione had in regards to an exiled Dark Wizard making his return were vanquished as she analyzed the trepidation in Lucius' expression.

"You are certain of this?" Lucius finally asked.

"Absolutely," Killian assured.

After another contemplative moment, Lucius stepped back, returning to his chair and sitting down.

"Well, then," he said, his fore and middle fingers massaging his temple. "Something must be done. I assume Tiberius is dead?"

"No," Harry answered. "Killing Tiberius would raise alarms within the Ministry. We thought it best to keep the Ministry unaware of our intentions until we were sure who we could trust."

"Well played, Mr. Potter," Lucius commended, although Hermione could not tell how sincere he actually was. "Of course, with what has transpired, Tiberius will send an army in search of you, Killian."

"I anticipate as much," Killian agreed.

"Of course you do." Lucius smiled as he stood again, pacing in front of the mirror over the mantle. "There is little we can accomplish this night," he offered. "You can stay here, of course. When the morning comes … Well, we shall see."

After that, the parlor reduced to a mingling of conversations. Astoria and Narcissa joined the room, and trays of food and drink were brought in for consumption. Draco, Harry, and Lucius sat and discussed the suspicions within the Ministry as Hermione listened and observed. She did not have much to offer to the conversation, as she had little knowledge of everything that was transpiring.

After an hour or so, Killian placed his goblet on the side table and made his way to the door. Hermione immediately got up and followed.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Upstairs," Killian answered. "I'm tired. I would like to get clean and rested."

Again, he was lying. Hermione could feel it. He simply did not want to be in the room. Too much … something. She wanted to say something, but could not think of anything. Instead, she simply stood there, hoping she did not look as foolish as she felt.

"Hermione," Killian said, his eyes meeting with hers. "You do not have to stay here ... You do not have to get involved."

Hermione took a deep breath, staring into his eyes, looking beyond the cold, distant gaze that he laid upon her.

"I'm already involved," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Killian nodded. Hermione could see that his every movement was pained. Whether it was the current situation or the physical punishment he had endured over the last twenty-four hours, she could not tell.

"Then I shall see you in the morning. Goodnight." Killian retreated and exited the parlor.

"Goodnight, Killian," Hermione whispered to herself as she watched the battered and bruised Slytherin disappear up the stairs at the end of the hall.

_up next ... Nightswimming_


	4. Night Swimming

_It's 91 degrees and humid outside, Fezzik (my lazy Great Dane) is currently melting into the carpet, and Day-O (the Banana Boat Song) just kicked in on Pandora ... Is there a better time to post another chapter? Maybe ... But whatever ..._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy! _

_- Chapter Four -_

_Night Swimming_

After Killian retired for the evening, Hermione rejoined the conversations bantering around the Malfoy parlor. As distracted as her mind was, she was able to remain attentive enough to appear interested in the present company. Seeing Harry, Draco, and Lucius engaged in conversations of politics and strategies, however … It was more than Hermione could process.

Before long she, too, decided to excuse herself for the night. As much as Hermione wanted to know what Harry, Draco, and Lucius were planning, it would have to wait until morning. She was exhausted. Physically and emotionally exhausted.

As she got up to leave, Harry joined her, indicating to Draco that they would continue their discussion after everyone had gotten some rest. Draco gestured to Astoria, who got up from her seat beside Narcissa.

"I'll show you to your rooms," Astoria offered warmly.

"Have you run out of servants?" Hermione asked Lucius, making no attempt to hide her contempt.

"Of course not, my dear," Lucius answered with a grin. "But I do appreciate your concern."

"It's all right," Astoria assured Hermione. "I don't mind."

How Astoria could be any relation to Daphne Greengrass was beyond Hermione's comprehension. She was sincerely warm and kind, unlike the feigned grace that Narcissa presented when Hermione and Harry entered the home. Of course, Astoria was also subservient, which was probably the foremost reason why Draco was drawn to her.

After bidding goodnight, Harry and Hermione left the parlor and were escorted up the grand staircase. When they reached the second floor, Astoria guided them to their rooms on opposite sides of the hall before dismissing herself with a smile and courteous nod.

Once alone, Hermione approached Harry outside his bedroom door.

"This must be a bit odd for you," Harry said, scratching the back of his head and stretching.

"A _bit_ odd?" Hermione chirped. "When you and Draco requested to work together, that was a _bit_ odd. Taking a room in Malfoy Manor after having dinner and conversations with the Malfoy's … that's _beyond_ odd. How can you trust them, Harry? How do you know that this isn't some sort of maneuver?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "A gut feeling, I guess."

Hermione sighed. "How wonderful that you've actually put serious thought into this."

"Look," Harry said, trying his best to sound convincing. "After you signed the orders against Killian, Draco came to me for help. You want to talk about beyond odd? "

"He could have just been trying to protect a family friend," Hermione dismissed.

"That was my first thought as well," Harry agreed. "But as things went on, it seemed to make more and more sense. I'm not familiar with this Lord Mideus. But from what I've come to learn, it's not about pure-bloods and Muggles. It's about absolute power and control. And that doesn't go along well with the Malfoys' interests."

"They could join Mideus," Hermione said with spite.

"I don't believe Lucius would go down that path again," Harry defended, albeit with hesitation.

"Oh yes, he's a changed man," Hermione mocked. "I just can't believe you trust him, Harry."

"I don't necessarily trust Lucius," Harry corrected. "But I trust Killian … and he trusts the Malfoys."

Hermione said nothing. What could she say? It would not change anything. Harry trusted Killian. Killian trusted the Malfoys. Ergo, Harry trusted the Malfoys. Should she not feel the same way? Did she not trust Killian as well?

"Things are complicated," Harry said.

Complicated. Hermione had heard that before. Everything was always so complicated.

"It's not like before," Harry went on. "It's not black and white. Times like these can create some strange allies."

"So it appears." Hermione sighed regretfully. "Killian went to Draco, Draco went to you, and I'm sure that you and Ron …"

"I haven't told Ron anything," Harry revealed.

"Ron doesn't know?" Hermione asked with genuine surprise.

"Are you serious?" Harry smiled. "Ron isn't exactly cut out for this sort of thing. There was no way I could let him get involved."

"And me?" Hermione prodded.

Harry paused for a moment. He appeared as though he did not know what to say, or at the very least, did not want to say it.

"I promised him I wouldn't tell you," he admitted sheepishly.

"Killian?" Hermione asked, although the question was pointless.

"No, I promised _Draco_," Harry answered, rich with sarcasm that was not lost on Hermione. "He has such touching concerns for you, you know."

Hermione bit her bottom lip and glanced at the floor. For some reason she did not want Harry to see her eyes. She felt naked.

"Get some sleep," Harry suggested, placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "The rest will do us both some good. And I still need to send an owl to the Weasleys on your behalf," he added with a smirk.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione gritted, slapping herself on the forehead. "I completely forgot!"

"I figured you would." Harry smiled again. "Don't worry, I'll handle it."

With that, Hermione bid Harry goodnight and walked to her room. Upon opening the door, she saw that it was quite small, barely large enough to hold a cot-sized bed and a battered wardrobe. The Malfoys had certainly not gone out of their way to make their guests comfortable.

Just as she was closing her door, she heard the faint sounds of music coming from another room down the hall. It was soft and soothing, barely audible. A quartet of strings playing a minuet that Hermione was sure she had heard before.

She quietly made her way down the hall, following the sound until she reached the door of another of the guest rooms. Pressing against the door, she found it to be open. As the door slowly swung inwards, her heart leapt as she saw a familiar figure turning down the large canopy bed.

"Kuulic!" she said with a beaming smile.

The house-elf leapt and turned, his eyes wide and startled.

"Friend of Master!" Kuulic exclaimed with excitement. "Much politeness to you," he added with a low bow. "Kuulic is most happy he sees you agains!"

"It's good to see you as well," Hermione returned. "You serve the Malfoys?"

"Master requests I stay and serves," Kuulic answered as he returned to his duties about the room. "Master wants Kuulic to haves a home."

"And are they treating you well?" Hermione asked.

"Very well," Kuulic answered. "Master says when brings Kuulic, _this not Dobby, this Kuulic. Treats well_. And they treats well."

Hermione smiled. She could almost imagine the scene, the look on Lucius' face when he was told that he needed to treat a house-elf _well_. Killian was certainly bold enough to make such a demand. That was a certainty beyond any doubt.

"Where is Killian?" Hermione asked as she glanced about the room. It was far larger and more lavishly decorated that the one she was to use for the night. Clearly, Killian was given more favor. Not that it came as any surprise.

"Master has many pains," Kuulic explained. "Master bathes so Master is not to feels for long."

Hermione noticed another door on the far side of the room. At that moment, she realized that this other door was the source of the music. As she walked over to the door, Kuulic bowed slightly.

"Kuulic gives moments for Friend of Master," he said.

With a snap, the house-elf Disapparated.

Placing her hand on the door, Hermione found that this door, too, was not closed. This time, she was careful not to push it open. Instead, she peeked through the opening and saw Killian sitting in a large bath in the center of the room, the steamy water filled with bubbles. About the bath there were dozens of candles giving the room an eerie flickering glow. The music Hermione had heard was merely emanating from the air, a simple trick Killian had shown her many years before.

Killian sat in the bath with his back arched forward slightly, his head hanging down. He held a soaked sponge to the back of his neck, the waters cascading down his spine and across his face. Around his neck, Hermione saw her chain, her ring ... her mark.

"It's not polite to lurk in doorways," Killian said as he doused the sponge before reapplying it to the back of his neck.

Hermione immediately snapped out of her moment of nostalgia, collected herself, and opened the door as if it were perfectly fine for her to be in a room with a man bathing only a few feet away.

"I would never have imagined you to be one for candles and bubble baths," she teased.

"I will admit it's not quite night swimming," Killian said, wincing slightly. "But I find it soothing nonetheless."

As Hermione's eyes began to adjust to the dim light, she saw that Killian's back, shoulders, and arms were covered with welts and bruises.

"Dear God ..." she said, approaching the bath for a better look. "Are those all from …"

"They are from a lot of things." Killian gritted his teeth as the water ran over his wounds in random streams.

"Let me get you some Beatrice Blood Balm," Hermione offered. "It will take–"

"That is not necessary," Killian dismissed.

"Killian …" Hermione insisted, "… at least take something for the pain."

"Pain is a most effective teacher," Killian said as he soaked the back of his neck for a third time. "It reminds us of our failures, our weaknesses … our mistakes."

_Mistakes_, Hermione thought. _Mistakes and regrets_.

"Since you're standing there, would you mind?" Killian asked, holding the sponge out towards Hermione. "I'm having difficulty reaching, and it appears that Kuulic has taken his leave."

Hermione stood there, her mouth opening and closing several times in an attempt to speak, but unable to do so.

"Please do not pretend to be bashful." Killian winced once more, taking a deep breath. "You are already in the room, so any reservations of that sort should no longer apply."

Not willing to be outdone in boldness, Hermione straightened up, swiped the sponge from Killian's hand and pressed it firmly against a rising welt on his back. Killian shuttered slightly under the pressure, and Hermione almost felt guilty for inflicting the pain … Almost.

After making her point, Hermione gently began to massage Killian's back, soaking the sponge and tenderly cleansing his wounds. She noticed his long coat, boots, and clothing lying in a heap on the floor near the bath, filthy and tattered.

"Well, if you won't take care of yourself," Hermione began, "you're going to at least dress decently." She drew her wand, and with a quick flick, Killian's apparel swirled about before finding their place on a chair against the wall, clean, mended, and folded with precision. "I will not travel with someone who looks like a vagrant," she concluded.

"Well, I certainly would not want to embarrass you," Killian quipped, clenching his jaw as the water continued to flow over his back.

"You know, you're not a teenager anymore," Hermione pointed out as she squeezed the sponge over Killian and worked her way to his shoulders. "Your body can't take the same damage that it used to."

"True," Killian agreed. "Of course, that comparison is irrelevant. Back then, I do not recall the odds being so significantly one-sided."

"Back then you would have known better than to engage an army by yourself," Hermione shot back.

Killian turned his head, looking up at Hermione. Hermione paused, unconsciously releasing the sponge, her hand now resting firmly against Killian's flesh.

"Back then …" his eyes locked with hers, "… I could not do the things that I can do now."

Hermione suddenly became aware of her hand. She pulled it away, stood, and distanced herself from the bath.

"I-I think …" she bumbled as she attempted to collect herself. "I think you should be fine."

"Should be," Killian agreed, his eyes still on Hermione as she wrung her hands uncomfortably. "Would you be so kind as to hand me my robe?"

Hermione looked about and saw several green and silver silk robes draped over hooks along the wall. Green and silver. Of course, they would be green and silver. Hermione grabbed one of the robes and handed it to Killian, avoiding eye contact completely.

Killian took the robe and began to stand. Hermione quickly turned her back to him. She did not know why she did. She did not want to. She found her conscience daring herself to turn back as she heard the water falling from Killian body and collecting in the bath below.

"The bath is yours, if you would like to freshen up," Killian offered.

Hermione turned in time to see Killian tying his robe. With a wave of his hand, the music stopped and the tub became empty and clean.

"That would be nice, actually," Hermione admitted. "My room does not have the … luxuries that yours enjoys."

Killian paused and turned to Hermione contemplatively. This time, it was Killian who refused to make eye contact.

"You can sleep here," he offered. "The bed is quite comfortable and there is a sofa that will be more than adequate for me."

"I … I don't think …" Hermione rambled, at a loss for words. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"The choice is yours, of course," Killian dismissed as he made his way back towards the bedroom.

His coldness tore at Hermione. She longed for a smile, a smirk, a sneer … anything beyond the heartless exterior that Killian presented.

"Let me know if you need a hand in here," he added before exiting to the bedroom.

Cold and emotionless. But at least it was juvenile. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, shaking her head as Killian entered the bedroom and closed the door. As unfeeling as it was, Killian's offhanded remark made Hermione feel young again. Dangerously young.

Walking back towards the bath, she turned on the water and began to disrobe. As her clothes fell to the floor, she noticed that the door was still slightly ajar. She thought about closing it, but decided against it. There was something about leaving the door unlocked … open …

Hermione slid into the warm bubbly waters, leaned back, and closed her eyes. It was soothing. She would have never believed that she could feel this comfortable within the walls of Malfoy Manor. But that was not where her mind was. Her mind was far away, in a different place, a different time. A time when things were simpler.

After soaking for a good long while, Hermione realized that if she planned on being in any sort of fit shape in the morning, she would need to get some rest. She climbed out of the bath and grabbed one of the remaining robes that hung along the wall.

_Green and silver_, she thought as she looked at herself in the standing mirror near the door. She did look good in Slytherin colors. Thoughts of _what if_ ran through her mind momentarily before she dismissed them away with a sigh.

She left the bath and entered Killian's bedroom. Once there, she saw Killian, dressed in green silk pajamas, asleep on the sofa. As adequate as he claimed it would be, Hermione could see that he was clearly too large for the makeshift bed, his feet dangling from the end, his one arm draped over the side.

"Killian," Hermione whispered, nudging him gently. "Killian, wake up."

He awoke, twisting and stretching with marked pain.

"Killian, you can't sleep here," Hermione went on. "You need to be in a bed. I'll be fine in my own room."

Killian stood and looked at her. "You will not."

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, taken aback by Killian's forthrightness.

"Your room is not fit for a slave," Killian answered. "I will not allow it."

"Well, I will not allow you to sleep on a sofa when you're carrying yourself like a broken old man!" Hermione shot back glaringly.

"It appears that we find ourselves at an impasse," Killian said, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, damn you and your _impasses_!" Hermione sighed, pushing Killian on the chest as she glanced over at the bed. Her conscience argued with her desires as she tried to simplify the matter. "It's a large bed. There's plenty of room for the both of us."

Killian said nothing. He simply stared at Hermione. She could tell that he was as uncomfortable with the idea as she was. But like her, she could also tell that Killian desired it as much as he condemned it.

"We are both adults," Hermione concluded, completely disbelieving her own words. "We can manage."

"Agreed," Killian conceded, almost reluctantly. "What side shall you take?"

"I'd prefer the left, if you don't mind," Hermione answered as she made her way to the bed.

Suddenly, a sickened feeling arose within the pit of her stomach as a realization set in.

"I don't have anything to wear," she said as she looked down at her bathrobe.

"That could be a problem," Killian said simply.

Without another word, he unbuttoned his silk shirt, removed it, and tossed it to Hermione.

"Kuulic will attend to your clothes," he said. "You can wear this for the night."

Hermione looked at the shirt. It did not take but a moment for her to realize that this was truly her only option. His shirt or nothing at all.

She grinned as she noticed Killian staring at her. "Would you mind turning around?"

"Of course." Killian bowed his head and promptly obliged.

As he turned, Hermione removed her robe and put on Killian's shirt. It was just long enough to cover her, albeit far too short for a nightshirt. She laughed to herself. She did not know why she found it so amusing, she just did.

Killian turned back just as Hermione was climbing into bed. He made his way opposite her and gingerly climbed in as well. The bed was truly large enough for two. In all actuality, it was large enough for three or four comfortably.

Hermione looked over at Killian, now lying on his back, his eyes already closed.

"Goodnight," she said softly.

"Goodnight," Killian returned. "And do promise you will behave yourself."

Was he grinning? The light was so dim, Hermione could not be certain. She wanted to believe he was, at least in his mind if not outwardly.

As the room fell into silence, Hermione was at ease. She felt warm, she felt safe. Nestling up in the covers, it was not long before she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of dancing with serpents in a dark stairway amidst the haunting music of a harp and string trio.

_up next ... Ship of Fools ..._


	5. Ship of Fools

_Another day, another chapter. And off we go ... again. _

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy!_

_- Chapter Five -_

_Ship of Fools_

Hermione slept soundly. As day broke, she slowly awoke from her slumber, unwilling to open her eyes. She was comfortable. She was happy. Her leg was draped over him, her head on his chest, his hand against her back, holding her close …

Suddenly, Hermione was wide awake and completely aware of her surroundings. The room was in shadows, with rains pounding the windows. The morning sky was dark as night from the storm that wailed outside.

Holding her breath, she looked up at Killian. She was relieved to see that he was still asleep. Carefully, she pulled herself away from him and slipped out of bed. Gathering up her clean, pressed clothing that sat on the nightstand, she quietly made her way to the door and left the room.

_Stupid_, she thought as she made her way to her own room.

How could she possibly believe that in an unconscious slumber she would keep her distance? Did he notice? Or was it simply an unconscious act on his part as well? She should have known better. She _did_ know better. She knew and she let it happen anyway. Furthermore, she hated herself for her growing desire to return to his bed.

"I must say that you have a remarkable figure for someone who has borne … what is it, two children now?" came Draco's snide voice as Hermione reached the door to her room. "I mean, a body like that … Unbelievable for a teenager, let alone a mother of two."

Hermione's guilt was already eating away at her. Draco's comment simply threw acid on the wound.

"How are the little _Weasleys_ these days?" Draco went on. "Ron's doing well, is he?"

"Damn you, Draco," Hermione said, doing her best to hold back her emotions.

Draco laughed with spite. "Oh yes, damn _me_. I know where _my_ room is. Didn't realize that I would have to draw you a map to _yours_."

"I wonder if your words would be so sharp with Killian," Hermione shot back.

"Killian doesn't sicken me as you do," Draco spat.

"Is that right? And have I done something in particular to sicken you?" Hermione asked, glaring at Draco in a mixture of anguish and anger. "Or is it my mere presence that offends?"

The pallid Slytherin did not answer. Without another word, Hermione turned away and entered her room, slamming the door behind her. Tossing her pile of clothes aside, she threw herself onto the bed, wishing for nothing more than to disappear. She felt lost. She felt cruel. Her mind was so awash that she did not hear her door open and close, nor the footsteps that followed.

"Hermione," came Draco's voice again, this time lacking the spite it had held only a moment before.

Hermione sat up, her eyes like daggers upon Draco as he stood beside her bed.

"Get out!" she shouted, reaching for her wand and drawing it upon her unwanted guest.

"Look … I'm sorry," Draco apologized as he raised his hands in defense, albeit without retreat.

"No, you're not," Hermione went on before she even realized what Draco had said. "You're a vicious, callous, selfish—What did you say?"

"I said, I'm sorry," Draco repeated with as much sincerity as Hermione had ever heard from him. "I didn't mean to … I wasn't … Oh, bloody hell, you know what I mean!"

"You Slytherins have difficulties with your apologies," Hermione accepted, straightening up and lowering her wand.

"We don't have much practice," Draco conceded.

"I'm sure." Hermione cleared her head and tried to muster up an excuse for her presence in the hall. "It's not what you think. Killian—"

"It's exactly what I think," Draco assured. "I'm not stupid."

He turned around and began to pace. At least, he began to pace as much as one could in such a confined area. He said nothing for several moments, simply sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

"You need to understand something," he finally said.

"Do I?" Hermione asked dismissively.

"_Do I_?" Draco aped, laughing to himself as if the question was somehow humorous. "Killian has been my friend since before my first memories. He has been like a brother to me … More than a brother ... More like family than most of my legitimate blood ties. And I've watched him over the years on this … downward spiral … surrounding himself with pain, chasing death as if it's some form of trophy."

"I don't understand," Hermione said as she tried to interpret Draco's words.

"The night that Harry and I took him in …" Draco explained, "… the night he engaged that ragged mob of the Ministry's thugs … He knew Harry and I were on our way. He knew he was safe … All he had to do was surrender himself. But he didn't. He went at them. There was no reason, no purpose." He paused for a moment, thinking, staring. "He has this unholy desire to punish himself for his perceived failures. His sister, his parents … you."

"Me?" Hermione questioned. "He never failed me. _Never_. It's just … We just …"

Draco stopped and sat down on the bed beside Hermione. Realizing that she was wearing only Killian's shirt, Hermione adjusted herself so as to appear more decent. Whether she accomplished this or not was questionable, as Draco seemed far too distracted in his thoughts to notice.

"You can lie to yourself if you like," Draco said with a sigh. "I'm sure Killian does the same. But I've seen him … Seen him with that damn _ring_ of yours hanging around his neck. I've seen his expression when he looks at it. It's like a poison to him. A poison and an addiction perfectly intertwined in a cheap circle of silver."

Draco stood and returned to his pacing. "And now you're here," he said, looking back at Hermione. "But to what end? What purpose will it serve? What will it do to him? What will it do to you?" He turned away with a heavy sigh, both hands on his head, massaging his scalp through his hair.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Hermione asked, a single tear crossing her cheek, which she quickly wiped away before Draco could notice.

"Because I thought you should know," Draco answered. "And because I know he won't tell you."

Hermione had no response. What could she say that would not be a betrayal? She could not have feelings for Killian anymore. It was not allowed. Yet, with this realization, her heart tore as it battled with her conscience. How could emotions so strong be iniquitous? What kind of a world would allow such conflictions to exist?

"All right then," Draco said as he straightened his shirt and adjusted himself. "We've had our little moment. No need to speak of it again."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, knowing full well that Draco had no desire to let on that he cared for anything. "I wouldn't think of it."

"Good," Draco said. "Best get dressed then. The Minister is here."

"The Minister?" Hermione asked, astonished at the notion.

"Yes," Draco answered. "And although I'm sure that the Minister appreciates the female form as well as any warm blooded wizard, you may wish to present yourself with a little more decency than you're currently displaying."

Draco reached for the door, pausing before opening it.

"Hermione," he said without turning back. "As much as I may let on, I don't judge you. I don't envy you, nor do I particularly care for you … but I don't judge you. I may not understand his thoughts or processes, but …" He stopped for a moment, seemingly unsure of his words or how to express them. "… The bloody fool is still in love with you."

With those words, Draco left. Hermione sat for a moment, trying to organize the thoughts in her head. It was not long before she realized that there was no time for such an endeavor. She grabbed her clothes that she had previously tossed aside, removed Killian's shirt, and got dressed before quickly exiting her room and making her way downstairs.

. . .

When she arrived in the dining room, Hermione saw Harry, Draco, Lucius, Narcissa, and Kingsley sitting at the table, engaged in conversations. As Hermione entered, Kingsley noticed her immediately and stood.

"Hermione," he greeted. "You are a surprise to me."

"I can say the same for you, Minister," Hermione returned as she made her way to the table.

"These times are difficult," Kingsley said with a smile. "I am sure you understand."

"So I keep hearing," Hermione said as she took a seat beside Harry.

"We were discussing last night's escape," Harry informed Hermione.

"Escape?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"That is what the Ministry is calling it," Kingsley answered. "Tiberius has reported it as such. He claims that he arrived at Killian's cell and found the prisoner free of his bindings. After a failed engagement, the prisoner escaped."

"You can't be serious?" Hermione scoffed. "How can he say that? He must know that he's been discovered."

"Discovered by _whom_," Lucius mused. "To the best of his knowledge, no one witnessed what occurred last night. Tiberius Mourdim can report anything he wishes. It would be the word of the Chief Warlock against the word of a marked criminal."

Lucius' insinuation of Hermione's actions against Killian did not go unnoticed. She wanted to defend herself, but felt it both pointless and unnecessary.

"Shouldn't someone wake Killian?" she suggested, glaring at Lucius. "I assume he should be present for this conversation, being the _marked criminal_ in question."

"That will not be necessary," came Killian's voice from the dining room doorway.

Killian's eyes locked with Kingsley's as he made his way to the table and sat across from Draco.

"I hope you are well," Kingsley offered.

"Well enough," Killian returned coldly.

"It appears that you were correct about Tiberius," Kingsley went on. "I must apologize for my disbelief."

Killian did not respond.

"I am also sorry that you did not get the answers that you sought," Kingsley added with sincerity.

"Apologies are futile, Minister," Killian said with indifference. "Let's move on, shall we?"

Hermione could feel the tension in the air between Killian and Kingsley. There was a time when they had worked together. There had been a trust, an understanding. Although Killian and his Triad never actually worked for the Ministry, one hand washed the other, and both sides benefited from the arrangement. Somewhere along the way, however, the relationship had gotten strained. Suspicions within the Ministry could certainly have played a part.

Kingsley nodded in agreement. "Of course. As was said," he went on, returning to the previous conversation, "Tiberius is unaware that the events were witnessed."

"But you know that they were," Hermione pointed out.

"Yes," Kingsley agreed. "But that must not be made public. Until we are sure of how far this conspiracy has infiltrated our infrastructure, it is best that Tiberius continue to believe he has gone unnoticed. The Ministry must not be made to appear weak or broken, lest it be considered nothing more than a ship of fools."

"With you at the helm," Killian added.

Kingsley looked as though he was going to respond, but did not. Suddenly, Scorpius bounded into the room, chasing a small green ball that bounded about. Astoria came after Scorpius, attempting to round him up and shuffle him out of the room.

"I told you to keep him away!" Draco chastised. "This is not a place for children!"

"I'm sorry," Astoria apologized as she picked Scorpius up into her arms. "Minister," she greeted with a slight bow.

"No apology is necessary," Kingsley said with a warm smile, much to Draco's frustration. "The child is merely curious, I am certain."

"Who is that?" Scorpius asked, pointing over Harry's shoulder.

Immediately, all eyes turned to the windows beyond Harry. In the shadows amidst the rain, three figures peered in through the glass.

"Scouts!" Draco shouted.

"They must not report my presence here!" Kingsley insisted as Killian Disapparated from his chair.

In an instant, the room was a frenzy. Harry and Draco leapt from their chairs and drew their wands as the figures in the window disappeared from sight. Hermione, upon instinct alone, Disapparated to the area outside the window just in time to see the three figures flicker several times, looking upon each other with confusion.

"You will find it quite difficult to Disapparate when you've been _bound_," Killian informed them, standing several feet away with his staff upon the intruders.

A moment later, the sky lit up with blasts of energy as the three scouts engaged with Killian and Hermione. Harry and Draco soon entered the melee as the scouts summoned their brooms with waves of their wands.

Harry swung his wand with a vengeance. A moment later, the three brooms that he, Draco, and Killian had used the previous night crashed through the windows, awaiting their riders as the scouts took to the sky. Harry and Killian took off as Draco leapt for his broom. As he did, an errant jinx ricocheted off the foundation wall of Malfoy Manor and struck him squarely across the face.

Without thinking, Hermione mounted Draco's broom and gave chase to the escaping band of scouts. Completely out of practice, it took a few moments before she was comfortable with her control, the pelting rains making the task even more difficult. Before long, however, her senses returned and she found one of the scouts in her sights.

So began a twisting pursuit through the skies above Wiltshire as lightning crashed and thunder roared. Hermione struggled to get her bearings, unfamiliar with the landscape. In the distance, she could make out a landmark … a bridge. She surmised that it must be the Clifton suspension bridge over the Avon Vale, as that was the only bridge of that size in the area.

She drew her wand and fired a streak of electricity past her target. The scout took evasive action, firing back and spinning down into the gorge in an attempt to lose his pursuer. Hermione dodged the attack and increased her speed well beyond what she felt she could control.

Now racing through the gorge, Hermione continued her attack, growing ever closer to her adversary. As they neared the suspension bridge, she found her mark, shattering the scout's broom as his body careened into the darkness below.

Unfortunately, with this last attack, she had surrendered her position, and now had no time to avoid a collision with the steel structure that grew dangerously close.

Hermione pulled back, but it was too late. Her broom clipped the edge of the bridge, and she was thrown into the air. She felt her body plummeting as the world spun around her, awaiting the inevitable end. A moment later, she felt a violent thrust against her midsection as she was swept from the sky and positioned on the back of Killian's broom.

"Hang on!" he shouted as he sped forth, locked onto the remaining two scouts.

Hermione, still shaking from her fall, nearly lost her balance, gripping Killian awkwardly across the waist and neck. Killian fell to the side, the broom twisting and flailing before he got it under control again.

"If you don't mind," he offered, removing Hermione's hand from his neck and placing it around his waist.

Hermione adjusted herself and held on tight as they continued. A moment later, the scouts split in opposite directions. Killian looked to his right, making eye contact with Harry, who had come up alongside. He then took off after the scout to the left as Harry engaged the other with several violent attacks.

"Where are you going?" Hermione cried over the howling winds. "We can't just leave Harry!"

"Harry will be fine," Killian returned with confidence. "This wretch is ours. And try not to kill this one, will you?"

Twisting and turning through the torrents of rains and explosions of lightning, Hermione and Killian pursued the scout. With the added weight of Hermione, Killian did all he could to maintain control of his broom while keeping pace with his fleeing adversary.

Several shots screamed past Hermione as the scout attacked blindly, attempting to throw his pursuers from their path. Suddenly, Killian dove as Hermione clutched firmly. The scout glanced about in a panic, apparently losing sight of them as they tore through the air beneath him. A moment later Killian ascended abruptly, cutting off the scout with an explosive collision that splintered the scout's broom.

"_Incarcerous_!" Hermione cast as the scout fell through the sky.

Instantly, several lengths of rope bound the scout as he plunged into the darkness below.

"_Arresto momentum_!" she followed up as Killian dove in pursuit.

The scout's descent began to slow until, at last, he was apprehended. Tethered on a strand of binding energies, the scout remained in tow as Killian and Hermione turned and started back towards Malfoy Manor.

. . .

Once back at the Manor, Killian and Hermione escorted their captive inside. In the foyer, Hermione saw that Harry had managed to arrive prior to them, his own captive in hand. Draco was sitting in a chair. Astoria was tending to his eye that was slightly reddened and swollen, while he insisted that he needed no such attendance.

Killian tossed his scout alongside the one Harry had apprehended, exchanging a nod with Harry in the process. Hermione had to admit that Killian was right, noticing that Harry's captive had been quite heavily tossed about. Harry certainly could take care of himself.

"You think you can just keep us here?" the beaten scout spat. "Tiberius will know we've gone missing! It won't take him long to trace us back to you!"

"I would think you would have greater concerns at the moment than our well-being," Harry said with a smirk, his wand drawn on the scouts.

"Your well-being?" the scout mocked. "You're all dead! The lot of you, dead! Your children will be enslaved, your women violated beyond your worst nightmares!"

Draco leapt from his chair, fire burning in his eyes, and he drew his wand and pressed it firmly to the scout's throat. Hermione had never seen him act with such an intensity.

"Choose your next words carefully," Draco threatened through gritted teeth, "lest they be your _last_!"

"You haven't got the spine!" the scout chortled in defiance.

"Care to wager your life on that?" Killian asked rhetorically, the scout's eyes widening slightly as he retreated a step.

"Let us contain ourselves, shall we?" Lucius intervened, stepping between Killian and the scout while directing Draco to lower his wand. "There is no need to lose our heads."

Kingsley entered the foyer amidst the glare of the scouts. Without a word, he walked over to them, his eyes locked with theirs. As he did, their expressions glossed over, their stance becoming less stable, as if they were being held in place like puppets on a string.

"What's he doing?" Hermione whispered to Harry.

"A Memory Charm," Harry answered. "We can't let them report what they've seen here."

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment, silent.

"What? Were you expecting Killian to give it another go?" Harry teased. "It's rather important that the Memory Charm actually work."

Hermione jabbed Harry in the ribs hard enough to make him wince, but not nearly hard enough to wipe the smile from his face. He thought he was quite clever. If it were not for the gravity of the current situation, Hermione might even have thought Harry's tease to be amusing. Even with things as they were, she could not help but reveal the slightest of smiles.

"They are all yours," Kingsley instructed as he left the foyer, disappearing from view.

Killian drew his staff upon the scouts and directed them silently through the front door. Hermione, Harry, Draco, and Lucius stood in the doorway, watching Killian as he marched the scouts out onto the rain soaked grounds surrounding the Manor. Once a safe distance away, with the scouts facing off towards the horizon, Killian released them from their trance.

"What the bloody …" the beaten scout bumbled as he looked around in fright.

"W-Where are we?" the other scout asked in a panic.

"Do not turn around!" Killian instructed firmly as the scouts raised their arms in surrender. "Do you know who I am?"

"Killian," the scout answered in a shaky voice. "Y-You're Killian Finn."

"You were sent for me?" Killian asked.

"We were j-just following orders," the scout explained in desperation.

"You followed them well," Killian said as he pressed his staff into the scout's spine. "Now let us see how well you can follow mine."

With a wave of Killian's staff, two brooms swooped beside him.

"You will head to the Ministry and report to Tiberius that I plan to seek council with the Centaurs," Killian instructed. "From there, word will spread of his treason and he will be hunted, as all those of his like will be hunted."

"We d-don't even k-know where we are," the scout said as he reached for one of the hovering brooms.

"Head straight off over the horizon," Killian offered. "You will find your way soon enough. And do _not_ turn back for even a _glimpse_. For if I should see the whites of your eyes … _you_ will see nothing more."

"Of c-course," the scout bumbled as he and his bloodied accomplice mounted their brooms.

As they watched from the distance, Hermione noticed Draco draw his wand to the ready as he stood beside her.

"How many scouts does it take to deliver a message?" he asked coldly, the fiery glare still etched on his face.

"Just one," Lucius mused as his eyes narrowed.

As the scouts took to the sky, a blast of green light screamed past Killian and struck the beaten scout who had spoken so boldly before. The scout fell to the sodden ground, his eyes staring outward, glazed and empty as his counterpart continued off into the distance without a second look.

Lowering his wand, Draco reentered the Manor with his father, leaving Harry and Hermione at the threshold, staring at the fallen scout in disbelief. Lucius was correct. It did not take two scouts to deliver a message. But, Draco's actions sent a message far stronger than any words could convey. Things were different now. They would have to be.

_up next ... Furtive Travelers ..._


	6. Furtive Travelers

_Here we are again ... Albeit this time, I am ever more excited due to the fact that I've been working on my original fiction this morning. That always has a tendency to bring a proverbial smile to my face ... Wait no ... I mean an actual smile. Or was it proverbial? Either way, it has been a pleasant morning thus far. _

_From here I am heading off to hot yoga ... which, for those of you who do not know, is like regular yoga ... only it's hot. So it's an actual description, not just a clever name. Still packed with Zen though ... hot Zen, I suppose._

_But I digress ... Moving on ..._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy! _

_- Chapter Six -_

_Furtive Travelers_

Within hours, Hermione was standing on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters as the Hogwarts Express fumed, hissed, and banged in its stationary position. Harry explained that the Ministry was monitoring the Floo Network. Since broom travel during the day was far too risky, and Apparating to Hogwarts was, of course, out of the question, the safest way of travel would be something less conspicuous.

As luck would have it, the Hogwarts Express was making a routine trip to Hogwarts with supplies for the upcoming school year. Draco, utilizing his family's money and influence, was able to barter passage.

The trip caught Hermione off guard. Killian had said that he was seeking council with the Centaurs. Although she heard the words, she did not process their meaning. She certainly did not realize at the time that his words meant a return to Hogwarts.

The view was a bit surreal. The massive red locomotive was preparing to depart, like it had so many times when Hermione was at school. Standing on the platform, awaiting word that it was time to board ... It brought back a wave of fond memories.

Of course, it was not exactly the same. In place of the hoards of students pushing their baggage along as they waved goodbye to their parents, there was an air of emptiness on the vacated platform. Instead of the excitement she felt at the start of a new term, Hermione felt the uneasiness of a future that was uncertain.

Draco stood by his parents, bidding goodbye to Astoria and Scorpius. Astoria looked near tears as she embraced her husband. To Hermione's surprise, Draco placed his hand on Astoria's cheek, looked her in the eyes, and whispered something gently to her. Hermione could not hear what was being said, but she could tell that his words were comforting to Astoria. Draco … _comforting_ his wife … comforting _anyone_. The world had changed.

Harry tried to engage Hermione in passive conversation several times. Each time, it simply tapered off. It was too much to take in. Hermione was far too distracted as she looked around the empty platform to engage in any form of conversation worth merit.

At the edge of the platform, she saw Killian. It appeared he preferred solitude at the moment. He had not said but a few words since the events that had occurred earlier that morning. He had already sent Kuulic ahead to inform the Triad of what had transpired, taking advantage of the house-elf's ability to Apparate within the boundaries of Hogwarts. Since that time, however, Killian had been silent and distant.

"It appears to be time," Lucius informed as the Hogwarts Express unleashed an ear-piercing shrill.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said as he made his way towards an open train car.

Astoria gave her husband a final embrace.

"I'll be fine," Draco assured with a sigh, taking in the scent of her hair. "You look after your mother," he instructed Scorpius, who nodded in return.

"Mind yourselves," Lucius warned. "You have set into motion something that cannot be taken back."

"I know," Draco said. "But it has to be done."

"So it does," Lucius conceded. "And it pains me to say that you have chosen your company well. The Fates certainly do seem to shine upon Mr. Potter," he went on, turning to Harry. "Promise to come back alive, won't you?" he added with feigned concern.

"I wouldn't dream of disappointing you," Harry returned with a grin. "If I recall, you offered Hermione the opportunity to search your estate for contraband. Wouldn't want to miss that now, would I?"

"I shall look forward to it," Lucius said in a severely condescending tone, bowing slightly to Hermione as she entered the train car.

Harry followed in suit, laughing with Hermione as they made their way to an empty compartment and sat. Out the window, Hermione saw Killian approach Lucius and exchange a few short words before a firm and proper handshake. Narcissa was not quite as proper, hugging Killian firmly as a mother would embrace her son.

Killian stepped aside as Draco took his turn with his parents, seemingly less appreciative of his mother's tears and smothering embrace. After a final kiss for Astoria, Draco and Killian entered the train car. A moment later, the two joined Harry and Hermione. Killian removed his longcoat and tossed it aside before sitting opposite the Gryffindors.

"All that blubbery," Draco scoffed as he sat alongside Killian. "Sometimes, I swear you're lucky your parents are dead, Potter."

"I wouldn't describe it as _lucky_," Harry said with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Draco dismissed as he sat back with a heave.

"Yeah ..." Harry smiled, shaking his head and looking out the window, watching the platform slowly fall away as the Hogwarts Express began to depart. "Oddly enough, I know _exactly_ what you mean."

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment, shocked at his response to Draco's comment. Harry simply smiled and dismissed her disbelief with a wave of his hand. It was clear to her that Harry had grown accustomed to Draco's manner of speech, most of which was brazen and laced with insults even when meant to compliment.

For the next several hours, little was said. Draco and Harry informed Hermione of the different things that had been occurring within the Ministry, suspicions of allegiances, and other gossip. Killian, on the other hand, kept to himself, staring out the window as the scenery passed by.

"Harry, could you see if there's a blanket in the overhead," Hermione asked as she folded her arms for warmth.

"I doubt you'll find anything up there," Draco pointed out as Harry stood. "The train's not loaded for students."

After a few seconds of searching, Harry agreed with Draco's assertion.

"Sorry, Hermione," he apologized as he sat back down. "It is bloody cold in here," he added. "Guess we should have thought about that."

"Should have," Draco agreed. "Didn't."

Without a word, Killian reached for his longcoat, offering it to Hermione. Hermione hesitated, almost rejecting the offer, before taking the coat, curling up, and covering herself.

"Thank you," she said, leaning back and nestling into her seat.

Killian simply nodded before his eyes returned to the passing scenery.

Hermione could tell that Killian was being purposely detached. He was distancing himself from her, trying to forget, building a wall. She could see it in his mannerism as he sat across from her, failing to make eye contact even as he offered his coat. Simply staring out the window, hoping that his mind could somehow disregard the present company.

With the chill in the air growing ever stronger, Harry removed his wand, and with a quick flick, there was a handful of burning embers hovering the center of the compartment. It did not emanate much heat, but the little it offered was better than nothing at all.

Hermione pulled Killian's coat tight around her, glancing at Killian through the embers, the radiating heat rippling the air between them. She tried to be discreet, but found herself unable to look away as she studied his expression.

"This brings back some memories," Harry mused.

"It does," Draco agreed. "I stomped your face in one of these compartments, didn't I? Two cars over if I remember correctly."

"Not exactly the memories I was thinking of," Harry said.

Draco smirked with a shrug. "Well, to each their own."

"Anyway," Harry said, moving on, "it will be nice to be back at Hogwarts. It's been a long time."

Draco made another snide remark, which Harry countered with a quick quip of his own. At that point, Hermione had lost track of the conversation, the words becoming nothing more than background noise. Her eyes were still on Killian, his eyes on the landscape that screamed past the train.

Suddenly, Killian's stare left the windows and turned to Hermione. It was the slightest of movements, so quick, she almost missed it. She wanted to turn away but found that she could not … or would not. Their eyes met for a split second that seemed to slow the world around them. Then, just as suddenly, Killian stood and reached for the compartment door.

"I need to stretch my legs," he said before abruptly making his exit.

Harry looked over at Hermione, who quickly looked away, pulling Killian's coat up to her chin and feigning that she was attempting to sleep. It was a pitiful attempt at a ruse, but it was her instinctual reaction. Harry then looked over at Draco, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Bloody hell," he groaned as he got up and followed Killian.

As Draco's footsteps faded into silence, the compartment became quiet. The only noise for the next several minutes was the sounds of the Hogwarts Express clanking along the rails as it cut through the open fields, now basked in the shadows of nightfall.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Harry asked at last.

"I'm fine," Hermione lied, forgetting that she was suppose to be groggy from sleep.

"Right," Harry said. "Just making sure."

Several more minutes went by without a word before Hermione shifted in her seat, sitting more upright, but still reclined.

"So why is it that we're headed to Hogwarts?" she asked.

"To seek council with Bane," Harry answered.

"That's why Killian is going," Hermione clarified. "How are we to explain our presence there?"

"Well," Harry explained, "by now, that scout will have delivered Killian's message to Tiberius. If he follows proper protocol, Tiberius will inform the Ministry. Kingsley will then assure Tiberius that a team of Aurors will be sent to investigate."

"You and Draco," Hermione assumed.

"And you," Harry added. "So officially, we're going to Hogwarts to apprehend Killian."

"And unofficially?" Hermione asked.

"Unofficially," Harry answered, "if Tiberius follows his form, he will leak the information through the proper channels and we may find him lurking about in the Forbidden Forest."

"You really think he would come after Killian personally?" Hermione asked.

"He already has," Harry answered. "He sent his henchmen and failed. He tried it on his own and failed. Now, Killian has practically called him out. Our guess is that he'll be there, accompanied by a sizable number at his side … To finish the job."

"Even knowing that Aurors will be present?" Hermione scoffed. "He couldn't be that irrational to think he could get away with killing members of the Ministry."

"It's the victors of the battle who write the history," Harry explained. "Aurors killed while attempting to capture a fugitive is not murder. Our deaths would be attributed to Killian. No different than when the Ministry made a scapegoat of Sirius. And as for rational … Well, I've found that individuals of Tiberius' mold have a disposition for being severely overconfident."

That much was true. If history proved anything, it was that Dark wizards overestimate their advantages. Hermione turned away and reclined further. Again, the compartment was silent. It all seemed so familiar. Hermione thought about where they were headed. She thought about where they had been. It seemed as though everything in her life was circular, constantly bringing her back to things she thought had passed forever.

"Harry," Hermione asked, her voice meeker than she intended. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Harry answered simply.

"What does it …" Hermione started and then stopped. She looked out the window, mustering the courage to go on. "What does it feel like … when you look at Ginny?"

Harry laughed. "That's a bit off topic, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, although she was not entirely sure why she felt she should.

"No, it's fine," Harry assured. "Just kind of an odd question. What does it feel like? I'm not sure what you mean."

"You've been together for a long time now," Hermione went on, her fingers caressing Killian's coat, out of sight from Harry. "Does it feel the same?"

"The same as what?" Harry asked, thoroughly amused.

"When you first knew," Hermione asked. "When you first knew that she was the one."

"I don't know," Harry answered contemplatively. "I mean, I guess I feel the same … It's just different, that's all."

Hermione turned back towards Harry. "How can it be the same and different?" she asked,

"Well," Harry tried to explain. "When I first … _knew_ … it was like this swimming feeling that made me dizzy when I was around her and sick when I wasn't … It's hard to explain."

"And now?" Hermione asked.

"Now," Harry answered. "I still get the same feeling when she's gone. I feel an emptiness when she's away from me, like I can't really be here if she's not here with me. And then when she's there, it's like I'm whole again."

Hermione pressed her eyes closed.

"So you believe that you were truly meant to be together?" she asked.

"I do." Harry smiled. "I _truly_ do."

Harry's words tore at Hermione. There was nothing wrong with them. They were spoken perfectly. They were everything they should have been. But they simply seemed to raise more questions, create more chaos, open more wounds.

"What if it never happened?" Hermione asked.

"What never happened?" Harry asked in return.

"What if you stayed with Cho?" Hermione clarified. "Or found someone else entirely … and you and Ginny never came together?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. At first, Hermione thought he was simply stalling, not wanting to answer the question that was posed. But she soon realized that he was seriously searching for an answer.

"I don't know," he said at last. "I think I would always wonder if I had made the right choices, doubting myself, wondering what life would have been like had it played out differently." Harry looked at Hermione, his eyes sympathetic. "But we're not talking about me and Ginny anymore, are we?" he asked.

Hermione did not answer immediately. The words were caught in her throat.

"I love Ron," she said at last.

Harry smiled. "I know."

Hermione knew that Harry could see beyond her words. He always could. She had no real secrets from him. But now she was aching. Everything that Harry had said about Ginny … Hermione did not feel that way about Ron. She never did. She loved him, but she never longed for him, never felt the emptiness when he was away. Not like the emptiness she felt when Killian had said goodbye all those years ago.

Hearing Harry speak of Ginny was like hearing the darkest secrets of Hermione's heart spoken aloud. Secrets she should have kept hidden. Secrets she knew she could not. She doubted herself. No matter how hard she fought to deny it, she doubted herself.

As they sat in awkward silence, Draco returned to the compartment. Killian was not with him, not that it was particularly surprising.

"We're nearly there," Draco said as he sat down.

"Where's Killian?" Harry asked.

"He's fine," Draco assured. "Insisted on staying in the front car … Keeping watch. You know how he is."

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

_No, you don't_, Hermione thought to herself. Harry does not know him. No one does … Not the way that she does. Her _Slytherin_ … Her _Killian_. No. She must not think such things. Somehow, she needed to find a way to banish these thoughts, to bury them, to deny them.

Hermione turned away from Harry once again as he and Draco broke into another conversation of meaningless chatter. She pulled Killian's coat firmly around her and closed her eyes, hating herself for feeling comforted by the scent of his skin emanating from the leather.

_up next ... Fading Reminders ..._


	7. Fading Reminders

_Alas, this is one of my favorite chapters in the entire Hermione/Killian series. I don't know exactly why, but of all the chapters I've written throughout these stories, this is the one I go back to and reread often with a tear in my eye ... Well, not an actual tear ... However if I were still capable of such emotion, who knows ..._

_Also of note, as with the second-to-last chapter of Descent into Darkness, this chapter was inspired by music. Evanescence's "My Immortal," to be specific ... which I later found out was, in a horrible coincidence, the title of "the worst fanfic ever written" ... or so the bloggers say. _

_Whatever ... The theme fit._

_But I digress ... Moving on ..._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy!_

_- Chapter Seven -_

_Fading Reminders_

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade. The platform was just as empty and desolate as it had been at King's Cross. However, Hermione's spirits were lifted when she saw a familiar massive and burly shadow standing under the moonlight.

"Ey 'Arry." Hagrid beamed as the trio exited the train car. "Draco, good teh see yeh … and 'Ermione, aren't you a surprise!"

Hermione smiled, Killian's coat draped over her arm. "Hello, Hagrid."

"Well, trav'lin light, I see," Hagrid went on. "Best be go'in. Reckon you all could use a good sit down."

"We're not taking the boats, are we?" Draco asked, seemingly disgusted by the thought.

"Course not." Hagrid laughed. "Boats 'er for first years. Got us a thestral carriage right over there."

Hagrid led the group to the carriage that was waiting at the end of the platform. There was no magical force drawing this carriage. After the events during their last years at Hogwarts, Draco, Harry, and Hermione had all seen death. Thestrals were not invisible to their eyes any longer.

"Wait!" Hermione asked, stopping and turning back towards the train. "Where's Killian?"

"Didn't see 'em," Hagrid admitted.

"Don't worry," Harry assured Hermione. "It's fine."

"Where is he?" Hermione asked on, not satisfied with Harry's dismissive attitude.

"He got off early," Draco explained. "Would seem a bit off if we were seen traveling through Hogsmeade with a known fugitive."

"He'll catch up," Harry said.

Hermione was not at all comfortable with the idea of leaving Killian to his own ends. Not after what Draco had told her.

Reluctantly, Hermione boarded the carriage alongside Draco and Harry while Hagrid walked alongside. In the distance, Hermione could see the outline of Hogwarts' spires against the backdrop of the night sky. She looked over at Harry and saw his eyes fixed in the same direction. His smile was almost silly. It was as if he were coming home for the first time in years. Of course, in reality, that was not far from the truth.

Once they reached the grounds of Hogwarts, the group made their way to Hagrid's hut. Before long, they had a roaring fire burning out front, crackling and sending sparks into the air that danced and twirled before succumbing to the darkness.

A rustling of leaves preceded the entrance of Wraith and Altimus, who appeared from the darkness of the Forbidden Forest beyond Hagrid's abode. Harry stood and greeted the duo as they made their way over to the fire.

"I assume you received our message," Harry said.

"Oh, we got it all right," Altimus said. "Killian's little bugger filled us in for the most part. Would love to know exactly what it was that Killian said to set off Tiberius though."

"He said he was going to meet with the Centaurs and raise a rebellion," Draco explained.

"We're raising a rebellion now?" Altimus asked, a bit confused.

"No," Harry answered. "But Tiberius thinks that you are."

"Oh, I get it," Altimus said. "Bring him out, right? Make him take the fight to us? That explains all the scouts. All day long they've been buzzing about the boundaries of the grounds like insects. Saw two more of them just now."

"There were four more just outside of Hogsmeade," came Killian's voice from the other side of Hagrid's hut.

"There he is!" Hagrid announced as he stood up and greeted Killian with a boisterous handshake. "I want yeh to know that yer safe 'ere, right?" he added. "All friends 'er welcomed."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Killian acknowledged with sincerity. "I appreciate everything that you've done. Have you spoken with Bane?"

"Aye, I have," Hagrid answered. "Says he'll see you. Though he can't right figure why you'd be requestin' a council with him."

"He'll know soon enough," Killian assured.

"Right." Hagrid smiled. "Well have a seat then. Fire's warm. Food and drink."

Killian joined the group, but preferred to stand, leaning against the side of the hut. Hermione stood and walked over to him.

"You left your coat," she said as she returned it to Killian.

"Oh, well look at Mr. Chivalry," Altimus teased as he took a bite of bread. "Offered the little lady your coat, did you?"

"Some are born with better manners than others," Wraith chastised Altimus with a cold glare as Killian took his coat and Hermione returned to her seat by the fire.

"I have manners," Altimus defended. "I was brought up right well."

"Stop yourself," Wraith scoffed. "I could toss a stone in any direction and strike four men of your like."

"You may strike four men if your aim's true," Altimus agreed, "but they won't be the likes of me!"

Harry laughed, tossing a handful on twigs on the fire. "Are you arguing for or against her point?"

Altimus paused in thought. "You got me there," he conceded with a grin.

The area around the fire erupted in laughter as the band of rebels enjoyed their company. Even Hermione joined in the conversations, listening to Altimus as he told stories of the Triad's exploits. She found it quite interesting how the stories came out differently when not told through the narrow-minded point of view of the Daily Prophet.

Noticeably absent in the merriment was Killian. He kept his distance, ever vigilant, his eyes continuously scanning the grounds and skies. As always, he was sacrificing the present in preparation for the future. Hermione watched him through the flames of the bonfire as he tossed a piece of meat to Fang and took to the path leading up the hill towards Hogwarts.

Hermione sat for a moment, daring herself to follow. She should not. Of course she should not. But that did not matter. She was going to regardless.

"Heading off?" Harry asked as Hermione stood.

"I'm going to take a walk," Hermione answered. "Reminisce a bit."

"You want some company?" Harry offered.

"That's all right," Hermione assured. "I'll be fine."

Harry glanced around and saw that Killian had left. He then looked back at Hermione with a raised eyebrow, which Hermione attempted to ignore.

"Right," Harry said. "Well, be careful. The grounds should be safe. Tiberius wouldn't dare have his men marching on Hogwarts. Still though …"

Hermione smiled. "I know."

"And it's dark out there," Hagrid warned. "So you be mindin' yer footin'."

"I will," Hermione promised as she turned to head off. For a moment, her eyes locked with Draco. He knew where she was going just as well as Harry did. Looking away, Hermione began towards the path up the hill.

It was not long before she caught up with the wandering recluse. Once Hermione reached the covered bridge that adjoined the hills with the courtyards of Hogwarts, she saw his shadow against the moonlit sky as he leaned against the rails, his eyes scanning the horizon. She approached cautiously. She did not really know why she was there. She did not know what to say. All in all, she did not know much of anything at the moment. Yet there she was. And there he was.

"Harry tells me that the grounds should be safe," she decided as an appropriate icebreaker. "Tiberius wouldn't enter Hogwarts."

"He's probably right," Killian agreed, failing to relinquish his gaze. "Never bad to be cautious though."

Hermione stood there, biting her lip uncomfortably. She really had not thought this through. Why was this so difficult? They used to spend endless hours talking about everything and absolutely nothing at all. Why was it that she could not think of a single thing to say now? The question needed no answer, of course. She knew why.

"So tomorrow you'll meet with Bane?" Hermione asked.

Killian lowered his head and laughed to himself.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked.

Killian turned to Hermione, shaking his head, but still unable or unwilling to make eye contact with her.

"I find it amusing how often people will ask questions by which they already know the answers," he said.

"I was just …" Hermione started, but lost her words.

"Did you really come up here for idle conversation?" Killian asked. "Because I'm sure either Harry or Draco would be more than happy to fill you in on the details."

"That's not why I came," Hermione answered with no particular follow-up to her statement.

Killian turned back and leaned against the rail again as Hermione collected herself. Nothing in her life could compare with the tension that she felt in the air around her. It was such a complex contradiction of a desire to leave and a need to stay.

"It's odd to be back at Hogwarts again," she said as she walked over to Killian, leaning against the rail beside him and gazing over the landscape.

"It is," Killian agreed simply.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful it was," Hermione went on. "The lake, the castle."

Killian looked about, his expression tense, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused, yet distant.

"Just fading reminders of a past life," he said as he left Hermione's side, walked across the bridge, and entered the courtyard.

Hermione took a deep breath. Her conscience told her to stay on the bridge, to let him go. But everything in her heart pleaded with her to follow. With a heavy sigh, she crossed the bridge just in time to see Killian enter Hogwarts. Shocked at the sight, she ran after him.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a coarse whisper as she reached his side once more. "You can't be in here!"

"Actually, I can," Killian corrected. "The new term has not yet begun, most of the faculty has not arrived, and above all of that, arrangements have been made to allow us access. So you need not whisper."

It made sense. Killian certainly did not appear to be acting as though he had broken into the school. Of course, even if he had, he would not exactly let on. Hermione stood in the dark, empty hall as Killian continued on. The scent in the air, the echoes off the walls, so familiar. Coming to her senses, she noticed Killian heading up a set of stairs at the end of the hall and hurried after him.

"Wait!" Hermione called to Killian, who paused with a sigh.

"Am I to have an escort wherever I go?" he asked with marked sarcasm.

"Might I remind you that you're under my charge," Hermione answered, although she felt immediately silly for saying it.

"Is that so?" Killian asked, cocking his head.

"Well, yes," Hermione answered. "Technically, I mean."

"Because of my _fugitive_ status?" Killian asked on.

"Under the circumstances …" Hermione began. "I mean, you're _not_ a fugitive … But by law …"

The conversation was not going in the direction that Hermione had planned. Not that she had a particular plan in place, but if she did, this certainly was not it. Killian dismissed Hermione once again and continued off. Hermione was beginning to feel desperate.

"Were you awake this morning?" she called after Killian, at a complete loss for coherent thought.

Killian paused and turned back towards Hermione.

"What?" he asked.

"This morning ..." Hermione went on. "Your eyes were closed ... Were you really sleeping?"

"Why are you following me?" Killian asked, dodging the question entirely.

"I … I don't know," Hermione admitted, fighting desperately to contain her emotions, but losing the battle. "I'm just talking … With all that's happened … And this morning … I need to keep talking … To get it out … Because if I don't, I don't know if I'll ever have the strength to start the conversation again."

"Some words are best left unspoken," Killian said coldly as he turned away and made his way to the door.

"Don't walk away," Hermione begged.

Her plea fell upon deaf ears. Hermione shuddered as she fought to hold it in. She could feel herself falling apart. In a moment's madness, she drew her wand.

"_Colloportus_!" she cast blindly.

Her charm struck Killian squarely in the back, thrusting him into the doorframe before he landed on the cold stone floor. Hermione gasped at the realization of what she had done and ran over to Killian as he stumbled to his feet.

"You shot me!" Killian said with a mixed expression of anger and astonishment.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, biting her bottom lip and shifting uncomfortably. "I was aiming for the door."

"You missed," Killian pointed out as he dusted himself off. "Miserably."

"Well, I wasn't actually looking," Hermione admitted.

"You cast with your eyes closed?" Killian asked, even more astonished than before.

"No … Sort of … Not exactly," Hermione bumbled.

"I believe we've had enough excitement for the night," Killian said as he, for the third time, attempted to leave.

"Killian!" Hermione called after him.

"What is it that you _want_ from me?" Killian asked in exasperation, turning back with a frustrated rage that Hermione had not witnessed since the day she saw him standing amongst the charred remains of his family's estate.

"I don't know!" Hermione cried as tears streamed from her eyes. "I can't think! I can't breathe! Everything that was supposed to make sense has fallen into _madness_!"

"And what would you have me do about it?" Killian asked with equal emotion, refusing to make eye contact.

"Talk to me!" Hermione pleaded. "Please, just talk to me! Tell me that I'm wrong! Tell me that the emptiness that I've felt all these years has been a futile waste, longing for a fiction that never existed! Tell me that I've been a fool for holding on to this for so long … That I've been a fool for denying … Tell me that you ..." Hermione's words suffocated her as they fell from her lips. "Tell me that you don't love me!"

With that, Hermione broke down completely. She hated herself for letting her emotions take over. But what was the point in keeping them in? What was she protecting? He knew. They both knew. Even with all of the secrets kept between them over the years, there was always one thing that was certain.

"Is that what you want?" Killian asked, keeping his distance, his eyes on the floor. "You want me to _say_ it? You want me to tell you that my life has not been a hellish void that I fight in vain to fill? That I have not lived each day hoping that it may be my last? That I may finally reach my end and leave this agonizing life of pain so sharp, so emanating that I would not wish it upon the worst of my enemies?"

He looked up, his tearing eyes upon Hermione's, his expression pained, yet contained through gritted teeth and tensed muscles.

"You want me to say that I do not see you everywhere I look?" he went on as he slowly made his way to her. "That I do not regret? That I would not give everything in my being to go back to that one haunting moment within these halls, find that stupid arrogant boy, and strangle sense into him? To tell him what a fool he was? To show him what he was losing? What he would become for it?"

Killian stood before Hermione. His hands reached for her, but refrained from grasping their target. Hermione could feel his pain melding with hers as he wavered there, his heart, his soul being laid out before her.

"You wish for me to say that I do not _love_ you?" Killian withdrew, balling his fists as he condemned his own actions and desires. "No … I will not tell you that … I will not lie to you."

Hermione reached for Killian, but found herself unable to hold him, her hands reaching and retreating. She, too, was wavering. There was a line before her that dared to be broken. A line, once crossed, that could never be returned from. It was as if a thousand voices were shouting at her all at once. A moment later, she fell into him, her head buried in his chest. The world became silent.

"Hold me," she pleaded. "_Please_ hold me."

Killian continued to waver for a moment, his hands hovering over Hermione's form. But his efforts were in vain as he succumbed, embracing Hermione with fervor, holding her close as he breathed her in.

"Hermione," he whispered softly as Hermione leaned back into the stone wall, feeling his weight upon her.

Her name upon his lips made Hermione shudder within his embrace as she clenched his shirt, pulling it away, feeling his skin beneath her hands. She reached up, her lips on his neck as he clutched her hair and ran his hand along her waist.

"This is wrong," Killian said as he retreated slightly. "Your heart is no longer mine to hold. I cannot do this to you."

"Killian," Hermione pressed her eyes closed, running her fingers across his face, drawing him in with all of her senses. "I can't deny you anymore. I don't know what to do … I just … I can't."

Hermione pulled Killian close once again, her head pressed against his neck.

"Promise," she whispered in his ear. "Promise you won't leave me again."

There were no more words as Hermione's lips slipped across Killian's face, kissing him, tasting him, feeling whole again for the first time since they were back in school. It was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. Their passion, left dormant for so many years, had overtaken their wills. Nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.

Suddenly, Hermione and Killian froze as a loud bang from the entrance door emanated from the hall below. A moment later, footsteps echoed through the halls.

"Got some beds set fer yeh," came Hagrid's voice. "Down in the Great Hall. Should be comfortable enough."

"What about Killian and Hermione?" Altimus asked. "Think we should look for them?"

"They're about somewhere," came Draco's dismissive voice. "I'm sure they're fine."

"You think so?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Draco answered. "But whatever."

The voices and footsteps faded away, leaving Killian and Hermione alone once again. Killian stood back, taking Hermione by the hand. As comfortable as the Great Hall might have been, they would find their own place that night.

_up next ... The Enemy of My Enemy ..._


	8. The Enemy of My Enemy

_A shorter chapter this time around, but it moves the story along. And with each passing day, I come one step closer to the publishing of the ebook edition of Legends of Voldavia - Book One. As you can imagine, I am experiencing joy, doubt, fear, and anxiety all mixed together in a volatile cocktail of polar emotions. That being said, I wouldn't change it for the world ..._

_Alas, all legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy!_

_- Chapter Eight -_

_The Enemy of My Enemy_

That night, for the first time in forever, Hermione felt whole. She felt his warmth, his embrace as their bodies intertwined like pieces to a puzzle that made no sense on their own, yet fell together with perfect precision, becoming one. She felt his breath as he caressed her shoulders, her neck. She felt a passion that had long since past, flooding back and consuming her. As she drifted to sleep, his arms holding her close, she banished all other thoughts from her mind. She and Killian were all that existed.

As the sun rose the next morning, Hermione awoke to find herself alone in bed. She sat up with a start, covering herself with the blanket, and saw Killian standing by the window of the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, holding a piece of parchment in his hand. Upon hearing her stir, he turned to her and walked back to the bed.

"You didn't think I'd left, did you?" he asked with a grin as he ran his hand across Hermione's cheek.

"No," Hermione denied, feeling her face blush with embarrassment. "Of course not."

"You're a liar," Killian whispered as he kissed Hermione's forehead. "And a terrible one, at that."

"Oh, shut up." Hermione sighed as she leaned into Killian's chest. "What is that?" she asked of the parchment.

"An owl post," Killian answered simply.

"You received a post?" Hermione asked curiously. "Who would send you a post? Especially here?"

"It doesn't matter," Killian answered. "All that matters is that it's good news for a change. Come now," he went on. "Best get dressed before the others come looking for us."

"Hogwarts is quite large," Hermione said as she pulled Killian back into bed and into her arms. "It will take them a while to find us."

. . .

"Begging pardons," came Kuulic's timid voice. "Master? Master must wakes!"

Hermione opened her eyes. She and Killian had fallen asleep, exhausted from the previous night's and early morning's escapades. Reluctantly, Hermione sat up and smiled at the house-elf.

"Good morning, Kuulic," she said.

"Good mornings to friend of Master," Kuulic replied with a bow. "Nearly good afternoons."

"What?" Hermione asked, glancing out the window and seeing the sun shining brightly near the center of the sky. "Killian!" she gasped, poking at the slumbering Slytherin, who awoke with a start. "We have to get up!"

Hermione leapt from the bed, wrapping the blanket around her as she looked for her clothes.

"Cleans and presses," Kuulic offered as he handed Hermione her clothes, neatly folded.

Hermione smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Kuulic."

Kuulic bowed once again before Disapparating with a snap of his fingers. Hermione turned to Killian as she dressed and saw him sitting up casually, stretching, and gathering his clothes, which Kuulic had placed on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Do you think they're looking for us?" Hermione asked.

Killian grinned with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are we?"

"Don't be coy," Hermione answered with a laugh, taking a pillow and striking Killian across the back as he reached for a pair of leather gauntlets.

"Those are new," Hermione said as she walked over to Killian and wrapped her arms around him.

He tied the gauntlets over his hands, the right of which still bore the deep etching '_The Inquisitorial Squad is an honor and a privilege_.'

"Some scars are best left concealed," Killian said with a sigh, looking Hermione in the eyes and returning her embrace.

Moments later, they were making their way towards the Great Hall.

As they descended the staircase, they saw Harry, Draco, Wraith, and Altimus heading toward the main doors. Harry saw Hermione, and an expression fell across his face that she could not quite decipher.

"Well, well," Draco said as he eyed the duo. "Good morning to you. Sleep well?"

"Fair enough," Killian answered with a dismissive tone.

"Fair enough," Altimus echoed, rubbing his hands with a wink. "Sly bugger!"

"Shut it," Wraith seethed at Altimus, who paid her little mind.

Hermione could feel the blood rush to her face. She bit her bottom lip, feeling as though a thousand judging eyes were being set upon her. Killian seemed unfazed. That did not surprise her in the least.

"We … we're," Harry bumbled, shaking some clarity back into his head. "We're heading off to Hagrid's. Thought you might have been there already."

"We were on our way, as well," Hermione offered as an excuse for their presence together in the hall. It was futile attempt, but she tried nonetheless.

"Perfect," Draco said, rolling his eyes and heading toward the doors. "Then we can all go together … one big happy …"

Draco's words tapered off in the echoes of the hall, but everyone pretty well understood his sarcasm. Harry started off after Draco, followed by Hermione. Killian, however, stayed behind, pulling Wraith and Altimus aside.

"We'll catch up," Killian said before Hermione could question his actions.

Hermione and Harry continued on, with Hermione glancing back over her shoulder as the Triad conversed in whispers. Something was going on. Something Killian was not telling her.

Soon, Harry and Hermione were out in the courtyard aside Hogwarts. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly through the clouds as birds twisted and danced through the clear blue sky.

"Have you eaten?" Harry asked, offering Hermione an apple.

"No," Hermione answered, taking the apple with appreciation. "And I wish you wouldn't stare at me like that," she added before taking a bite.

"I'm trying not to," Harry admitted. "It's … uh … I don't know."

"Harry, I ..." Hermione completely lost her words. She had absolutely no explanation, no logical reasoning that she could present to Harry.

Harry forced a slight smile as he put his arm around Hermione in a show of comfort. "It'll be all right."

Hermione sighed, taking another bite of her apple. "I wish I had your confidence."

. . .

Once everyone gathered at Hagrid's, the gentle half-giant led the group into the Forbidden Forest. Hermione and Killian kept their distance from each other, mostly for show. But an occasional passing of the eyes ensured Hermione that Killian's distance was merely physical for the time being. There was a task at hand.

"Not sure why yeh wouldn't rather meet on the grounds," Hagrid asked of Killian as they trudged through the brush. "Much safer, I would think. What with these scouts swoopin' about."

"I'm not looking for safety at the moment," Killian answered.

After several hours of hiking, the group came to a clearing. Remaining in the shadows of the woods, they glanced around, seeing a massive herd of Centaurs pounding the grounds of the clearing as they galloped in circles. Bane remained in the center, beating his chest and riling the herd.

"Here we are then," Hagrid announced. "Off the grounds, out in the open."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Killian said, eyeing Bane.

"Yer sure you don't want me to stay?" Hagrid asked. "I got good relations with the Centaurs. Could help ease the tensions a bit."

"I appreciate the offer," Killian answered. "But I don't need you risking your life out here. You're far too important to Hogwarts."

"Right ..." Hagrid smiled with humility. "Well, I'll be off then. You'll all be watchin' yerselves then, right? Nothin' stupid er anything," he added, looking at Hermione and Harry.

"We'll be fine," Harry assured. "I promise."

With that, Hagrid lumbered away into the woods. For several minutes, the group did nothing. Hermione watched as Killian stood near the edge of the clearing, out of view from the Centaurs, scanning the treetops. Finally, Altimus approached Killian.

"We going to be standing around all day?" he asked.

"No," Killian answered as his eyes left the trees and returned to the herd of Centaurs. "Let's go."

"About time," Altimus said as he looked out at the stampeding herd. "You know, Bane looks a bit put out," he added, patting Killian on the back. "You go first."

Killian looked at Altimus, who smirked in return. Without another word, Killian entered the clearing. Close at his heals were his fellow members of the Triad. Just behind them, Hermione, Harry, and Draco followed in suit.

Within seconds of exiting the shadows, Bane's emissary blew on his horned trumpet, silencing the herd as they regrouped behind their leader. Killian approached without hesitation, dwarfed by Bane's imposing stature.

"So, the _Hunter_ arrives," Bane said, looking down upon Killian with fire in his eyes. "You request a council! You make us wait! Why now should I not order you ground into dust for such insolence?"

"Because we both know that neither you nor your herd are capable of such a task," Killian answered in cold defiance.

"Bold arrogance!" Bane spit as he reared up on his hind legs, kicking violently, inches away from Killian, who stood steadfast in his position.

Hermione was beginning to feel a bit concerned. She looked around, seeing the same concern on the faces of Draco and Harry, both of whom clutched their wands firmly at their sides.

"Save your energies for the battles that lie ahead," Killian said calmly.

Bane lowered his hooves. "Battles?" he asked with venom in his tone. "Of what battles do you speak?"

"Lord Gaius Mideus is on the rise," Killian answered. "He is gathering forces, maneuvering for his return."

Bane did not respond immediately. His expression flickered for a moment, as if caught off guard by Killian's statement. A second later, he returned to form.

"Man's wars are his own!" he roared. "Let them destroy each other! It matters not to me!"

"This is not man's war!" Killian fired back. "It's beginning again, the same as before! The Ministry has been infiltrated! These very woods are under watch! He has not forgotten your allegiance against him before he fell from power! Do you truly believe you will escape his vengeance?"

"Past mistakes!" Bane reared once again. "Past mistakes not to be repeated!"

"Tell that to your people as they are slaughtered in their sleep," Killian warned.

"Lord Mideus is _your_ enemy!" Bane shouted.

"And _yours_!" Killian came back, holding his stance. "And as I understand the philosophy, the enemy of my enemy is my ally."

Bane still refused to yield, refused to face the truth. Suddenly, Killian fired a shot over Bane's shoulder, striking a treetop at the edge of the clearing. A moment later, the limp form of a scout fell from the tree and crashed into the ground. From another treetop, a second scout took to the sky. Draco immediately drew his wand and fired upon the scout, only to have his curse deflected by Killian.

"Are you mad?" Draco shouted. "He'll give away our position!"

Killian turned back to Bane, ignoring Draco's outcry.

"In a few moments, there will be an army of mercenaries swarming through this clearing," he informed, his eyes locked with the mighty half-breed. "It is time to make a decision."

Bane became enraged. "You bring this blood upon us?" he asked with fiery contempt.

"This blood was already upon you," Killian assured. "It was only a matter of when. Now, I ask you, great leader of the herd … what will your actions be?"

_up next ... A Line in the Sand ..._


	9. A Line in the Sand

_Well, it has been a very anxious, unnerving, and otherwise painfully difficult last couple of days. Alas, it was all for the better. The proverbial ends certainly justified the means, if you will. And although I cannot say anything more just yet, I will be sure to fill you in very soon._

_But I digress ... Moving on ..._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy!_

_- Chapter Nine -_

_A Line in the Sand_

Killian stood in silence, staring up at Bane. The mighty Centaur seethed, shifting back and forth on his hooves. Hermione was suddenly reminded of the scene so many years ago when Bane and his herd had interrupted her and Killian as they held their mock duel. On that day, the two students backed down, retreating to the safety of Hogwarts. But today, there would be no backing down, there would be no retreat. Killian was planted in his place and nothing short of nature's end would move him.

Hermione felt a sensation beginning to rise from within her. She wished to join Killian, to stand at his side. She wished to feel the power that she had felt in a past that now seemed like another lifetime altogether.

"Time is short, Bane," Killian said, breaking the silence. "Today I draw a line in the sand," he went on, tracing an edge in the earth with his staff before taking several steps back. "Those who cross will stand and fight. Those who do not can run and hide … awaiting their inevitable death. The choice is yours."

"I sincerely hope he knows what he's doing," Harry whispered. "Cause if he's wrong, this is going to become very bad very fast."

"He knows what he's doing," Hermione assured, her eyes still on Killian. "Right?" she added, glancing at Draco for a bit of reassurance.

"You're asking me?" he scoffed. "I never know what the hell he's doing."

This was not the reassurance that Hermione was looking for.

"I mean, it always seems to work out in the end," he quickly added, seeing the concern in Hermione's face. "But, you know, the process is just a bit questionable."

Slightly less confident than she had been a moment before, Hermione looked back toward Killian and Bane. Bane had not crossed the line. However, he had also not retreated from it. Instead, he looked down upon the simple mark in the sand as if it held the weight of the world.

"I do not trust man," he huffed.

"One of many things we have in common," Killian said.

"You come to us for our allegiance," Bane went on.

"No," Killian corrected. "I come to you for your help. Lord Mideus will certainly come to you with less hospitable intentions."

Hermione could take it no longer. She left Harry and Draco, crossed the line in the sand, and stood by Killian. Bane appeared shocked by the move, stepping back and glancing between Killian and Hermione.

"Use your reason!" Hermione pled.

Bane said nothing at first, simply staring at Hermione and Killian, as if contemplating. "I see before me …" he said at last, narrowing his eyes, "… the students I once banished from these woods. It appears that some things do not change with time."

"Ignoring the past will not make it go away!" Hermione glanced at Killian, her own words striking a nerve within her.

"No," Bane agreed. "Ignoring the past will not make it go away. Our pasts find their ways into our present," he added. "And you are willing to die for this cause?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Yes," she said solemnly. "I am willing to die for what I believe to be right."

"As am I," said Harry as he joined Hermione.

"As am I," Draco concurred as he, too, joined the group.

A second later, Altimus and Wraith stood beside Killian as well.

"Do we actually have to say it?" Altimus asked with a grin. "Or can we just take it for granted that we're in?"

Wraith shot Altimus an icy glare, but kept silent. Bane glanced at the band of wizards that stood before him, eyeing each of them as if he were staring right into their soul. He then raised his bow in the air. His emissary blared on his horn as Bane crossed the line to join Killian and the others. The herd instantly erupted into howls and battle cries.

As the ground shook under the pounding hooves, the sky began to grow dark.

"They're coming," Harry whispered to Killian.

"I can assume there is a plan of action," Bane said amidst the chaos in the clearing.

Wraith raised her bow and fired a bolt of energy above the herd. A second later it exploded, showering the Centaurs with shards of shimmering blue light.

"The charm should protect you from ranged attacks," Killian explained. "It will force Tiberius and his men into physical combat. I believe you and your herd will be at a significant advantage in that area."

"We will crush them beneath our hooves!" Bane promised as he reared back.

Wisps of black smoke began to pour from the clouds, encircling and penetrating the clearing. Killian drew his staff to the ready, pulling Hermione behind him. She was slightly annoyed that he felt the need to protect her, but let it go. She raised her wand, her back pressed firmly up against him. Draco and Harry took a defensive stance alongside Altimus. Wraith drew her bow, a bolt of energy appearing and awaiting fire.

When the smoke cleared, the area was infested with the Ministry's mercenaries. Out in front, with his wand drawn, was Tiberius Mourdim. Killian glanced about the sky for a moment before turning to Hermione, placing his hand on her cheek.

"No chance that I could talk you into getting away from this place, is there?" he asked, his eyes locked with Hermione's, his expression softer, more concerned than it had been a moment before.

Hermione did not answer. She could not. As confident as Killian had appeared as he stood before Bane, she now saw doubt in his eyes. Not doubt in himself … No … It was something else. There was something bothering Killian ... Something he had no control over.

"No worries, brother," Altimus said as he approached Killian and stood beside Hermione. "I'll make sure nothing happens to her."

"Good," Killian said as he straightened up. "Because if anything does, I will kill you."

With that, Killian turned and headed off toward Tiberius with purpose in his step.

Altimus smiled. "Such a charmer, that one."

"I'm sure he wasn't serious," Hermione assured.

"Oh, he was serious, all right." Altimus laughed uncomfortably. "Trust me."

In the center of the clearing, Killian stood before Tiberius with Bane at his side. The opposing forces began to gather in ranks.

"All these years," Tiberius mocked. "Your mind must truly be gone. Even you must see the futility in all of this. Regardless of your abilities, the numbers are insurmountably against you."

"Your numbers will cower before me!" Bane roared as he pounded the ground beneath him.

"Hold your tongue, you filthy half-breed!" Tiberius spewed. "Your kind is at an end! Sooner than planned, but nonetheless," he added as he drew his wand upon Bane and fired, only to see his curse deflected away by a shield of light that appeared from nothingness.

"Very clever, Killian," Tiberius complimented. "A protective barrier on the beasts. Powerful magic for a number so large."

"Not my magic," Killian corrected.

"No, of course not," Tiberius mused. "You have trained your disciples well. But _barriers_ can be _broken_!"

"So can _wizards_," Killian assured as he drew his staff to the ready.

In an instant, the clearing broke down into anarchy. The Centaurs charged through the front lines of the Ministry's mercenaries as wave after wave of attacks were deflected away. Hermione, Harry, Draco, Altimus, and Wraith formed a small circle, backs to each other as they defended against the onslaught. It was not long, however, before their grouping broke down and they were separated amongst the melee.

Hermione searched through the battlefield, engaging with several wizards at once. She was acting purely on instinct, purely on passion … passion and control. The rush of adrenaline was overwhelming as her enemies fell in succession. It was an exhilaration that had long since escaped her.

The battle continued to rage on. Even with their numbers, Tiberius and his army failed to gain an advantage. Taking away their ability to attack the Centaurs from long range created a weakness in their strategy that they could not seem to overcome. Their vast numbers were no match for the brute strength of Bane and his herd of warriors.

Off in the distance, near the far edge of the clearing, Hermione caught a glimpse of Killian sweeping through a series of mercenaries with a grace and ease. If it were not for the burning focus in Killian's expression, Hermione would have thought his movements to be without any noticeable effort at all. Her distraction would have its price, however, as she felt the ground beneath her explode with a force that tossed her several feet beyond the edge of the clearing before she came to rest aside the underbrush of a massive tree.

"I've got this one," a mercenary said, standing over Hermione as she tried to clear her head and focus.

"Hell with you," another mercenary argued as he joined the first. "I took her down, she's mine!"

Hermione saw her wand lying in the brush, several feet away. She made an attempt to reach for it, but was immediately thwarted as one of the mercenaries pounced on her, forcing her hands to the ground as he pressed his body into hers. She tried to fight him off, but was still a bit disorientated from explosion. Even as she felt the mercenary's foul breath on her neck, she was unable to gain any leverage to free herself.

"I've never been with a woman of the Ministry before," he said, rolling his tongue across his rotten, yellowed teeth.

In a sudden burst of green light, the mercenary was wrenched free from Hermione, falling over lifelessly.

"And you never shall," Draco said drolly. "Pity, isn't it?" he added as he turned his wand upon the second mercenary and fired.

The second mercenary, caught off guard, feebly tried to deflect the curse. His actions useless, he was thrown into the base of a tree, colliding with a deafening impact.

By now, Hermione had gained her senses enough to gather her wand and stand.

"Thank you," she said as she looked upon her most unlikely of allies.

"You should be more careful. You almost got Altimus killed," Draco said with smirk, referring to Killian's earlier threat.

Together, they made their way back into the clearing. The battle was beginning to die down. Harry spotted them from the distance and ran over.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked.

"Tiberius is retreating into the canyons beyond the clearing," Harry answered breathlessly. "Bane ordered a blockade to trap Tiberius and what remains of his men inside."

"Where's Killian?" Hermione asked on.

"He went after Tiberius," Harry answered.

"By himself?" Draco asked.

"He took off before I could catch up," Harry explained. "I was on my way to join him when I saw you."

Hermione tore across the clearing with Draco and Harry close behind. As they approached the far side, Ronan charged over to meet them.

"Hold where you are!" he cried out, blocking their path to the canyon. "It is a trap!"

"What?" Harry asked.

"A trap!" Ronan repeated. "There's an army held up in the canyon, lying in wait! At least two legions, maybe more!"

"Killian's down there!" Hermione shouted.

"No," Ronan said, his face twisted in confusion. "You are mistaken. I have already informed Killian of the danger. We must fall back."

"I saw him head into the canyons!" Harry insisted.

"Surely, your eyes have deceived you," Ronan said, equally as perplexed as before. "Such a move would be nothing less than suicide."

A sinking feeling arose within Hermione, so strong her legs nearly fell out from beneath her. The world around her fell into a blur of vision and sound as voices began to play in her head … previous conversations whose words became ever so clear.

… His admission …

… _These are not the chains that bind me …_

… Draco's revelation …

… _I've watched him over the years on this … downward spiral … Surrounding himself with pain, chasing death … _

… Baring his soul …

… _That I have not lived each day hoping that it may be my last ... That I may finally reach my end and leave this agonizing life of pain … _

… Baring his conscience …

… _Your heart is no longer mine to hold … I cannot do this to you … _

"Harry," Hermione choked, her eyes desperate and widening as she clutched Harry's arm.

"You don't think …" Harry lost his words. Hermione could see that he shared in her thoughts.

Without another word, she forced her way around Ronan and continued toward the canyon. As Harry and Draco made to follow, Ronan blocked their path.

"This is madness!" he tried to reason. "You will all be killed!"

"Probably," Draco said as he and Harry pressed past Ronan. "But we appreciate your optimism."

With panic in their steps, Draco and Harry pursued Hermione through the far side of the clearing and into the entranceway to the canyons beyond.

_up next ... Faith in Trust ..._


	10. Faith in Trust

_Then end draws near ... And with it, the story comes one step closer to the epilogue/transitional introduction that I have been waiting to post for almost two years. And I am not exactly what you would call a patient individual ... At least, not by choice._

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy!_

_- Chapter Ten -_

_Faith in Trust_

Hermione cleared the tree line and ran to the edge of the canyon. The rocky walls fell off steeply into a dry riverbed below. Immediately, the scene revealed itself.

Surrounded by thousands of the Ministry's mercenaries, Killian stood defiant before Tiberius. There, with his staff drawn and at his side, Killian made his stoic stand as the whipping winds swirled about his longcoat.

"For the love of …" Draco's words failed him as he joined Hermione, looking down upon the hopeless odds that lay before them.

"Now what?" Harry asked, his eyes widened and glassing over.

Hermione acted without thinking, her emotions taking control. In a blur, she Disapparated, appearing a moment later at the bottom of the canyon beside Killian. Before anyone could react, she grabbed the arm of his coat and attempted to Disapparate once again. Instead, she found herself merely flickering slightly.

"Courageous," Tiberius mused aloud. "But pointless, I am afraid. This area has been bound. Once you are here, you are here to stay."

"What'd he say?" Draco asked, Apparating beside Killian.

"We're stuck here," Harry answered, Apparating beside Draco.

Two more flashes of light marked the entrance of Altimus and Wraith, who stood at the ready. Upon seeing Hermione, Wraith turned to Altimus with a fiery glare.

"You were supposed to watch her!" she scolded.

"I did!" Altimus defended. "She was up there, now she's down here! Watched her the whole way!"

"Brilliant plan, this was! Absolutely brilliant!" Draco scoffed. "And how ironic that I get to die by your side, Potter," he added with a roll of his eyes.

"And not even by my hand," Harry remarked. "Who knew?"

Killian did not say a word. He simply looked at Hermione. As he did, she could see something beyond his expression. His eyes … There was something there. It was not fear, it was not hopelessness. It was something else. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He looked back across the ranks of mercenaries that engulfed the area.

The numbers did not seem as bad from Hermione's vantage on the canyon floor. This, of course, was due to the fact that her line of vision did not allow for her to see the scale of the numbers. But she knew they were there. She knew they were waiting.

Tiberius grinned. "I am so glad you all could join me."

"You can't possibly believe you'll get away with this?" Hermione shouted.

"Get away with what?" Tiberius asked. "Hunting fugitives that met their unfortunate demise in our attempt to apprehend them? I think that scenario sounds quite reasonable. Especially given the fugitives," he added, his eyes on Killian.

"There are three members of the Ministry present," Hermione went on. "How do plan on explaining that?"

"Well, Ms. Granger," Tiberius explained. "While you, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Malfoy fought valiantly in our efforts to pursue the Triad, you were unfortunately caught in the crossfire. But fear not, your actions on this glorious day will not be forgotten. You will be marked among those who fought for the Ministry, only to be martyred for the cause."

Hermione felt sick as she listened to the venom that spewed from Tiberius' lips. Harry's words echoed in her head ... It's the victors of the battle that write the history. She drew her wand and took a step forward, ready to unleash her fury upon the corrupt Chief Warlock. There was nothing to lose, and she refused to stand by and do nothing.

Surprisingly, as Hermione moved towards Tiberius, Killian put out his arm, blocking her and guiding her behind him. As she stood there, baffled by his lack of emotion, Killian's hand slipped over hers, gripping it softly for a mere moment before releasing. She felt a sudden calm wash over her. She did not understand it. It made no sense. It also did not go unnoticed.

"I sense a connection here," Tiberius sneered as he stepped forward, his eyes dancing between Hermione and Killian. "How touching. Although, I must say that I am quite surprised, Ms. Granger. I would have thought you to have better discriminations. Pity that it is all for nothing. It would have made a wonderful story to tell by firelight."

Killian glanced over Tiberius's shoulder for a moment. A familiar devilish grin crossed his face. Hermione followed Killian's line a sight and saw a figure, basked in shadows, standing atop the canyon beyond the legions of mercenaries.

"The true pity, Tiberius," Killian returned his sights upon Tiberius, "is that you were not informed of the risks involved when hiring mercenaries to carry out your bidding."

"Is that so?" Tiberius scoffed, glancing between Killian and the small band that surrounded him.

"That _is_ so," Killian explained, his arrogance blazing. "You see, mercenaries do not fight for glory, they do not fight for causes, they do not fight for loyalty. They fight … for money," he concluded as he thrust his staff in the air.

A bolt of lightning tore across the sky, emanating from the point where Hermione had seen the figure in the distance. Tiberius looked up, startled at the thunderous sound. A moment later, however, the rumbles faded and the canyon became silent once again. Hermione looked atop the canyon walls. The ominous figure in the shadows had vanished.

"Impressive parlor trick," Tiberius mocked with a laugh as he regained his composure. "Although I am not sure what you intended to gain."

Wraith's eyes narrowed, a grin matching Killian's growing on her face as she slowly drew back her bow. "Wait for it."

Hermione, Harry, and Draco stood their ground, listening to the silence of the winds that swept the canyon floor. It started so softly that Hermione had to cock her head, cupping her hand to her ear. Shouts and screams, muffled by distance, garbled by echoes. Tiberius heard it as well.

Louder and louder it grew as Tiberius' confident expression slowly faded. Hermione pressed herself closer to Killian as his eyes remained fixed upon his present prey. Whatever was happening, she did not want to be separated from him. If death was coming, she wanted him near.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, looking around as the clatter grew ever louder.

"It's on, brother," Altimus answered, flexing his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. "It's on."

Before Altimus raised his wand, the ranks behind Tiberius turned back, met with an explosion of attackers. The area broke down into chaos as mercenary fought mercenary in a quagmire of indiscriminate bloodshed. A second later, the air was darkened by the rains of a thousand arrows whistling through the sky. Hermione looked up and saw the canyon walls lined with Centaurs, their bows drawn and ready for a second assault.

Tiberius turned from side to side, looking for an escape route, flickering several times.

"Your Binding Charm is still quite firmly in effect, I am afraid." Killian grinned. "And if not yours, then mine is certainly beyond your escape."

"Defend me!" Tiberius cried out.

Several of his mercenaries leapt forth, engaging with Killian. Harry and Draco were quick to jump in, cutting through the simple wizards with relative ease. When the dust settled, however, Tiberius had disappeared into the melee. As Killian searched through the bedlam that stretched out before him, the ground began to tremble. Hermione turned and saw Bane leading a charge of Centaurs, plowing through the lines.

"I assumed that was the signal you spoke of," Bane said as he galloped over to Killian.

"Your timing could not have been better," Killian assured.

"My apologies," Ronan said as he approached Hermione, Harry, and Draco. "My orders were to keep you at a safe distance. However, I believe my words may have caused undo concern."

"Really?" Draco asked. "Figured that one out on your own, did you?"

"Come!" Bane roared as he reared back and signaled his herd. "To battle! To glory!"

The Centaurs charged into combat, their shouts and battle-cries echoing off the canyon walls. The rest of the group remained in place, fending off the occasional straggler foolish enough to engage with them.

"What's our next move?" Harry asked as he deflected an attack with a dismissive wave of his wand.

"Hold your ground," Killian answered. "All of you. There's no need to get involved from here. Let the hired thugs lash it out amongst themselves."

"And what about you?" Hermione asked as Killian backed towards the battle.

"I'm going after Tiberius," Killian answered before disappearing into the chaos.

Everyone stood for a moment, looking at each other. Wraith was the first, without word, to enter the melee.

"Well, she's off to fight," Altimus observed with a shrug. "Thinking I might join her. Any takers?"

"I'm in," Harry answered, looking to Draco.

Draco shrugged as he adjusted his sleeves. "Better than standing around, I guess."

A moment later, Draco and Altimus took off into the battle.

"Go find him," Harry said to Hermione before he, too, joined the fight.

Once alone, it did not take Hermione long to compose herself. Feeling a surge of adrenaline pulsing through her body, she cut through the lines of mercenaries as her eyes scanned the canyon. It seemed an impossibly daunting task to find one person amidst a horde of thousands. Then again, this particular person had a knack for making his presence known.

A burst of light across the canyon preceding a shower of falling bodies was just the marker that Hermione was looking for. She quickly made her way towards the explosion. As she did, she saw Tiberius in full retreat up the trail along the canyon wall with Killian in pursuit, cutting his way through an entourage of Tiberius' men.

Several mercenaries stepped forth and advanced upon her. Acting on instinct more than conscious thought, Hermione engaged with deadly precision. As her attackers fell one after the other, Hermione continued to act and react. As the last wizard collapsed to the ground, Hermione spun around, her wand at the throat of another mercenary.

"Whoa! Easy!" the wizard shouted, his hands waving in submission. "I'm with you! I'm with you!"

Hermione's adrenaline reached a climax. She turned away and continued after Killian. Once she reached the trail, her pursuit saw little resistance. Within minutes she was engaged with the horde that surrounded Killian as he pushed his way up the trail. After disposing of a handful of hapless wizards, Hermione was finally by his side.

"Took you longer than I anticipated," Killian mused.

Hermione grinned. "I was delayed."

They were now fighting together, moving as one, anticipating each other's actions and reacting in kind. Hermione felt no fear, she felt no pain, she felt nothing but the power that was flowing through her veins as her enemies fell before her. She now understood Killian's obsession, his passion, his addiction to the pursuit of perfection—a desire that he, himself, had once defined as a madman's quest. She understood. She understood and she desired. She desired the power, the passion, the euphoria that had so completely enveloped her as she fought aside her Slytherin.

Their adversaries were many, but rudimentarily skilled at best. The horde's attacks were based on numbers and brute force more than organized form and mastery. Hermione found them to be more of an annoyance than a test of her skills. Fighting alongside Killian, it almost seemed unfair for the less-than-proficient mercenaries.

Killian cleared the path ahead of them with a massive sweep of his staff just as Tiberius reached the top of the canyon and continued off into the forest. Hermione and Killian raced after him, twisting and turning through the trees and underbrush. As they reached the clearing, Tiberius stood amongst half a dozen mercenaries who launched an assault of electric energy that Hermione and Killian waved off with relative ease.

"Get Tiberius," Hermione said as she eyed the mercenaries. "These ones are mine!"

Killian looked at Hermione. For a moment, their eyes met.

"Be gentle," Killian teased playfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes with a dismissive grin. "Just go!"

A second later, Killian was off, leaving Hermione to handle the remaining wizards. Her attack was swift and precise. After the first two fell, restrained by vines that sprung from the ground and engulfed them, the remaining four attempted to flee. Their retreat was in vain. Hermione blocked their escape with a ring of fire that funneled them back into the center of the clearing.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the forest light up with explosions of energy as Killian dueled Tiberius. The area surrounding them was being laid to waste as they rained curses down upon each other. It would have been a vision of beauty if not for the destructive aftermath being left in its wake.

Now cornered in the clearing, the remaining mercenaries tried again to fight their way through Hermione. After a devastating jinx lodged one of them in the bough of a tree, the three that remained threw down their wands, kneeling before Hermione, pleading for mercy. Reluctantly, she obliged, binding the wizards in place before heading off toward Killian.

When she reached the scene, it was all but over. Killian stood over Tiberius, who lay bruised and broken on the ground, his hands up in useless defense amidst fires that burned wildly about them.

"P-Please," Tiberius begged, a stream of blood pouring from his mouth. "I yield … Do not kill me … P-please … I beg of you!"

"I wonder …" Killian thought aloud as he drew his staff upon the broken wizard, "… How many pleas for mercy have you ignored?"

Tiberius cowered before Killian, closing his eyes, awaiting his death.

"Killian!" came Harry's voice from behind. "Stop!"

Hermione turned around and saw Draco and Harry approaching, their wands drawn and at the ready.

"Impeccable timing, Potter," Killian said through gritted teeth.

"Lower your staff," Draco said calmly as he attempted to talk Killian down. "It's not worth it."

"You have no idea what this is worth!" Killian returned, his glare burning through Tiberius.

"We made a deal," Harry reminded Killian. "We did our part. Now you must do yours. Tiberius is to be taken into custody."

Hermione approached Killian cautiously, her head clearing. She placed her hand over Killian's, gently forcing his staff down. Killian closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Hermione could see the reluctance in his face. Reluctant or not, however, he submitted to her touch. A moment later, Harry and Draco had Tiberius in shackles.

"This is a mistake," Killian said, looking to the ground.

"Maybe so," Harry agreed. "But we must at least try to follow the right path. It's what separates us from those like him." He gestured toward Tiberius.

"It is what separates you, Harry," Killian corrected, his regretful eyes finding Hermione's.

"Thank you," Tiberius wept as Harry and Draco escorted him away. "Thank you."

"Open your mouth again and I'll have it sewn shut," Draco warned as he shoved Tiberius along.

They were now alone. Hermione placed her hand on Killian's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. There was a calm in the air that was lacking only a few moments before. Killian placed his hand over Hermione's, closing his eyes, absorbing the moment for what it was worth, each knowing that times like these would be short. There would never be enough time.

"We have rounded up the remainder of Tiberius' rogues," came Kingsley's voice from the edge of the clearing.

Hermione turned and saw Kingsley, escorted by Bane, walking to join them.

"Minister?" Hermione asked, astonished at his presence.

"The day is won," Bane trumpeted.

"The day, yes," Killian conceded. "But just the day."

"With each victory, we plant the seed!" Bane assured. "With each victory, we send a message!"

A message. Suddenly, it became clear to Hermione.

"It was you!" Hermione said to Kingsley. "You sent the owl! It was you on the canyon top! You knew of all of this!"

"Of course," Kingsley said as if it should have been common knowledge. "You seem surprised," he added as Hermione to Killian, who stood in silence. "You did not tell them?" he asked of Killian.

"I thought it best to be certain of the Ministry's commitment to their involvement before I allowed anyone to rely on it," Killian answered coldly.

"I understand your doubt," Kingsley said as Altimus and Wraith entered the clearing and made their way to the group.

"Do you?" Killian asked curtly.

"If I were in your position, I am sure I would find my trust lacking as well," Kingsley assured.

"I have little need for trust," Killian scoffed. "And even less faith in it. It is the weapon of a fool."

"You have that right, brother," Altimus agreed with a hearty laugh.

Wraith sighed under her breath. "Says the fool."

Killian's words cut Hermione. She was not sure why. They were not directed toward her. No, it was more of the meaning behind them, the feeling that they represented. A lack of faith in everything, a lack of trust in the world and everything it encompassed.

"In time, my friend." Kingsley smiled. "In time, I will earn your trust again."

"We shall see," Killian said as he turned and headed off toward Hogwarts.

Altimus and Wraith followed Killian into the forest. Hermione looked over at Kingsley. She felt as though she should say something, but nothing of significance came to mind. Instead, she joined Killian and the Triad. She was sure that she would have to answer questions at the Ministry upon her return. But that was a concern for another time. There were more important things at the moment.

_up next ... Inseverable Fates ..._


	11. Inseverable Fates

_The conclusion is upon us ... Well, the conclusion to this chapter in Hermione and Killian's story, that is. Alas, only this chapter. There is still much more to come. And, of course, there is a new original fiction for their story to dance and weave through as it once did through Harry Potter canon._

_But I digress ... No wait ... This time it actually appears I am merely getting ahead of myself. First things first. _

_All legal and illegal disclaimers apply ... Enjoy!_

_- Chapter Eleven -_

_Inseverable Fates_

Hermione and Killian sat together at one of the Hog's Head's many empty tables. The pub, as desolate and filthy as ever, now appeared as though a swift breeze could tear it down to its foundations. Still, it was comfortable enough to pass the time as Draco and Harry saw Kingsley off.

Tiberius Mourdim, along with the remainder of his men that did not manage to escape into the woods, was now on his way to Azkaban. Killian was not particularly fond of the decision, but complied nonetheless. It was out of his hands.

"So you knew?" Hermione asked as she looked across the table at Killian, reclined in his chair. "You knew all along that Kingsley would be there? You knew about the trap in the canyon? You knew everything?"

"You give me too much credit," Killian answered with a smile. "Kingsley promised me that he would send men to aide in Tiberius' capture. But a promise from the Ministry? You understand my doubts."

"But you went into the canyon," Hermione reasoned. "Even after you'd been warned by Ronan. Surely you knew then?"

"It was a calculated guess," Killian explained casually. "When I heard of the numbers that had gathered, I found it difficult to believe that Tiberius could command such an army on short notice. My thoughts were that Kingsley's men had managed to infiltrate Tiberius' ranks, so I informed Bane to hold back and await my signal."

"And you told no one else?" Hermione asked.

"I believed surprise would be the best approach," Killian answered.

Hermione was frustrated with Killian's simplistic participation in the conversation.

"And what if you were wrong?" she asked, exasperated. "What if it was a trap and nothing more? You would have been killed!"

Killian grinned arrogantly. "Fortunate that I was right, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're an ass," Hermione huffed, her eyes welling slightly as she sat back and crossed her arms.

Killian paused and looked over at Hermione. His expression softened as he leaned in, placing his hands on the table.

"Hermione," he said softly, trying to find her eyes as Hermione purposefully looked away. "You didn't think …"

"Think what?" Hermione snapped. "Think that after all of your talk of pain, agony, and your unholy wish to end it all that you might have been racing off to meet your end? Why in the world would I think something so stupid?" she added as a tear slid down her cheek.

Killian smiled with a cautious laugh. "You didn't really believe that, did you?"

Hermione finally looked up at Killian. "I did. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose you all over again."

Killian reached across the table and took Hermione's hand into his, caressing her palm with his fingers.

"No matter what pains my life may bring," he said softly, "I would never choose such a path. And aside from that," he added with a smirk, "you know that I am far too arrogant to waste my death on a wizard of such amateur skills."

Hermione smiled, pulling her hand away and wiping the tears from her eyes. "I don't know how it is that I can tolerate you. I really don't."

The door to the Hog's Head swung open. Harry, Draco, Altimus, and Wraith entered the pub, chatting away about the day's events. As they approached the table, Killian and Hermione sat back and adjusted themselves to appear more platonic. It was a pointless gesture but seemed appropriate just the same.

"Well, the bugger's off to Azkaban," Altimus said as he sat down heavily beside Killian.

Killian appeared disinterested. "Forgive me if I don't applaud."

"Come on," Altimus said with a hearty slap to Killian's back, an action that Killian clearly allowed merely on munificence towards his hardy companion. "Everything's good, right?"

"I know that you're not comfortable with his confinement," Harry said as he sat alongside Hermione.

"Azkaban has become little more than a playground for the incarcerated," Killian said with a bite in his tongue. "A shadow of its former self."

"True," Harry agreed. "But it's the best solution we have under the circumstances."

"I disagree," Wraith seethed, standing behind Altimus and Killian.

"The best solution within the boundaries of the law," Harry clarified. "We must work within these boundaries lest we create a world of chaos and anarchy."

"As much as it pains me to say," Draco offered to Killian. "Harry has a valid point. At least now we have some form of control. If not in reality, at least in perception."

"I agreed to your plan," Killian said dismissively. "But that does not mean I have to like it."

With that, Killian got up and made his way to the door.

"I think I need some air," he said. "And Harry," he added, pausing over the threshold. "I trust you understand my words are spoken in frustration. There needs to be a guiding light, regardless of my thoughts on it."

Harry did not answer as Killian exited the Hog's Head. He simply sat there with a contemplative look on his face. Killian's comment meant a lot to Harry. Hermione could see that. She knew that Harry felt quite alone sometimes when it came to choosing between the right path and the easy one. Even more so, now that the Ministry was in flux.

A moment later, Harry, Draco, and Altimus broke into idle conversation. Hermione paid little attention. She, like Wraith, was not interested in conversing. At her first chance, she excused herself and left the Hog's Head, in search of her reclusive Slytherin.

Once outside, it did not take long to find him. Killian had not wandered more than a few steps from the Hog's Head, standing alone and looking at the sky, taking in the late summer breeze. As Hermione made her way over to him, a young boy with an easel and chalks approached her.

"Fancy a sketch, miss?" he asked with a polite smile.

"No, thank you," Hermione answered kindly.

"I would," Killian said, turning around and walking over to Hermione and the young artist. "If it's fine by you, that is," he asked Hermione.

Hermione smiled, blushing slightly. "I suppose."

"All right, miss," the artist instructed as he set up his tools. "If you could just sit right over here and keep a bit still, I'll have you set in no time at all."

Hermione sat on a stool alongside the Hog's Head. She soon found a comfortable position, raising an eyebrow at Killian, who watched with amusement as the artist worked his craft. Not a word was spoken as the blank canvas was transformed into vision of beauty captured in time. Every stroke a flawless recreation, every shade and shadow a mirror-esque replication of its inspiration.

When the artist finished, he carefully held up the portrait and softly blew away the charcoal dust. Killian took the portrait and paid the young boy, who thanked him kindly before heading off down the road in search of more potential customers. Hermione walked over and looked at the portrait as Killian eyed the detail.

"Not a bad likeness," he mused.

"Are you serious?" Hermione asked, crinkling her nose. "Is that what I look like to you?"

Hermione was being difficult, of course. The portrait was masterfully drawn. However, like most people, she often felt uncomfortable when she saw a picture of herself or heard her own voice. One is never in reality as they appear to themselves.

"I believe it is perfect." Killian smiled as he carefully rolled the portrait and tucked it inside his coat. "Like an acacia—beautiful, yet sharp with thorns," he teased.

Hermione looked at Killian. She knew that the conversation would have to come. With all that was happening, they never really had an opportunity to think about it, let alone talk about it. They were simply taking things as they came, reacting to the elements that surrounded them. Now, there were no distractions. Now, it was only them.

"What are we going to do, Killian?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?" Killian asked with a smirk, much to Hermione's annoyance.

"Don't dodge," she chastised, slapping Killian on the chest.

Killian smiled, taking Hermione's hand and clutching it within his own. Hermione merely sighed, rolling her eyes as she bit her bottom lip. How she had missed his smile all these years. He used to smile all of the time. Smile when he was being clever, smile when he was being difficult … smile when he simply looked at her. It was his way. At least it had been his way in the past, when they were younger, when there was not so much getting in the way. Life was less complicated back then. Even with all of the chaos and drama that occurred at Hogwarts, life still seemed less complicated by comparison.

"What are we going to do?" Killian asked, echoing Hermione's question. "How do I answer that? How do I find the words? I once made a choice … A mistake … One that I have regretted with my every breath ever since. And here I stand, staring at all I have ever wanted, all I have ever needed … wanting nothing more."

"And what of Tanzar?" Hermione asked.

"What of him?" Killian answered. "He is a pathetic wizard who has spent more than a decade hiding from me like a frightened child. He must live with his cowardice. Perhaps that is more vengeance than I could have ever reaped upon him by my own hand."

"So you'll just give up?" Hermione asked, subduing her astonishment at Killian's avowal. "Just like that? After all of these years?"

"I hunted Tanzar like an animal, seeking vengeance for something that I had lost." Killian placed his hand on Hermione's cheek. "And because of that, I lost something far more important to me than any vengeance could satisfy. I was a fool then. I do not wish to be a fool any longer." He took a deep breath before continuing. "But it is not that simple, is it? What of you? What of ..."

He did not finish his thought. There was no need. Hermione knew. What of Ron? What of her family? What of ... everything? Her emotions were overflowing as her heart came face to face with her reality. Why did it have to be complicated? Why could their world not find simplicity for a single solitary moment? Must there always be something there, something interfering? It was as if the Fates, themselves, had conspired to perpetuate this agonizing tempest that Hermione and Killian were weathering once again.

Without a word, Hermione put her arms around Killian, pressing herself to his chest. She knew that there was more that needed to be said. But at the moment, she wished for nothing beyond his touch. Killian wrapped his arms firmly around her, kissing her gently on the forehead. They held each other for what seemed like a lifetime. Hermione closed her eyes and dared herself to envision a life that had been lost and suddenly found.

Upon opening her eyes, however, she was startled to see a strange light emanating around the corner from the Three Broomsticks. As she watched, the light flickered and grew brighter. A moment later, a small orb came into view, turning the corner and bobbing along up the path towards them. Once in view, Hermione recognized the object as a Spirit Orb, the favored form of communication amongst the Order of the Knights of Tempus.

"Killian," Hermione whispered as she pulled away slightly.

Killian turned and watched the orb as it grew closer and closer to them. Once it was within several feet, it stopped. With a burst of light and energy, the Spirit Orb disintegrated. In its place stood the ghostly translucent image of an oddly short, old, and stout little man. He was silvery grey in the areas where hair was still present and his wrinkled features gave the appearance of a perpetual smile. All in all, he was a remarkably unremarkable individual to behold.

Hermione immediately knew this man to be Master Duncan Kinelli. She had never met him before, but his reputation for greatness preceded him wherever he traveled. Imperator Primoris of the Knights of Tempus, he currently carried a great deal of respect within the Wizarding community. His ancient Order had held the task of maintaining the balance of energies within the world for centuries.

"Killian," Master Kinelli said warmly as his spectral image waddled over. "I am pleased that I was able to find you with such swiftness. I see you are with company. Is this a bad time?"

"What is it that you want?" Killian asked coldly.

"Ah, right to the point then." Master Kinelli nodded, folding his hands in front of him. "Your assistance is required in immediate fashion, I am afraid. I would very much enjoy explaining the reasonings, but time is shorter than I."

"No," Killian said simply, much to Hermione's surprise.

"No?" Master Kinelli asked, seemingly equally surprised.

"I do not belong to your Order," Killian answered. "Nor am I obligated to it. Whatever your plans, they will be enacted with my exclusion."

Hermione was not sure what to make of Killian's words. It was not odd that he had strained relations with the Knights of Tempus. His relations with the Ministry were no different. No, what Hermione found odd was that Killian dismissed Master Kinelli so readily, without question.

"Are you certain?" Master Kinelli asked.

"I am," Killian answered. "I … I do not want this life anymore."

Hermione's eyes welled up so quickly, she had to turn away so as to wipe them before anyone could see. He was walking away from it. He was walking away from it all. He was truly willing to leave everything for her. Standing behind Killian, Hermione clutched the back of his coat, leaning her forehead against his shoulder blade.

"I understand," Master Kinelli said, glancing at Hermione and smiling kindly. "Although I must admit that I am disappointed. We could truly use your assistance in this time of need. Several of the Order are gathering in Froggenhall as we speak."

Hermione felt the muscles in Killian's back suddenly tighten. She was unaware of the significance of Master Kinelli's words, but she knew they had a struck a chord with Killian.

"Why?" Killian asked.

"Because it is near Three Hills," Master Kinelli answered simply.

"I am _aware_ of the geography!" Killian snapped back. "Do not play games with me!"

"Ah, you seek specifics." Master Kinelli cocked his head and scratched behind his ear. "Understandable. Well, as it is, it appears that the boy has gotten himself … How to put it … _Discovered_? Yes. Yes, I believe that should describe it well enough."

"Discovered?" Killian's voice became quite serious and focused. Hermione could feel him tightening up more and more with every passing second. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. "And what does that mean, exactly?" he asked on.

"Indeed. What does it mean?" Master Kinelli smiled as if there were no gravity to the situation at all. "Boys will be boys and all. As I hear it, he and the young Buckley boy decided to stow away on the Raving Stark so as to witness the Summer Games in Gauff. Quite a good show, so I am told. A bit brutal for my tastes, but to each their own."

"What happened?" Killian asked with impatience toward Master Kinelli's babbling.

"What happened, what did not happen," the odd sorcerer answered. "It is all relatively irrelevant at this moment in time. What's done is done. All that matters now is that Lord Akuma was able to deduce the boy's identity. I believe that you will agree that it is only a matter of time before word spreads like a wildfire. It will not be long before Lord Mideus is made aware … If he has not been already."

"Who are you talking about?" Hermione finally asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"Why, Draven Aurelius, my dear," Master Kinelli answered with another warm smile.

"Draven Aurelius?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "Draven Aurelius is dead. He died along with his father years ago."

"No, my dear," Master Kinelli corrected. "I assure you that he is quite alive. For the moment, at any rate."

"Killian?" Hermione asked as he turned to her, his eyes a whirl of tempered emotions. "You knew about this?"

He stared at her, silent. His expression appeared lost. Hermione did not need an answer. His eyes gave him away. So many secrets. He took her hands and pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers, locking with her eyes.

"Tell me ..." he whispered with a sincerity in his voice that Hermione had never heard before. "Tell me what you wish and I will do it."

Hermione's heart was wrenching. She knew the history. Unknown assailants murdered Daniel Aurelius, along with his young son, Draven. At least that was what the world was left to believe. Although there were many rumors regarding who was responsible, it was believed by many that Lord Gaius Mideus was key in the plot. Daniel Aurelius had been marked as his enemy years ago. If it was Lord Mideus' intention to wipe out Daniel and his seed, then Draven's life was now in significant danger.

"Tell me to walk away from this ..." Killian whispered. "… and we will leave this place forever. Tell me …"

"Killian," Hermione whispered back, choking back tears once again. "I … I can't."

"Hermione—" Killian began, but was cut off as she gently placed her hand over his mouth.

"No … You … You have to go," she said, cursing her words as she spoke them. "You know you have to. If Draven is alive … If Lord Mideus comes after him again …"

"Then he will have the Knights of Tempus to protect him," Killian argued weakly.

"The Knights of Tempus are not you," Hermione reasoned as her heart fell to pieces. "They are not you, Killian, and you know that. Do you really believe he will be safe under their protection?"

"I can't …" Killian started and then lost his words. "I cannot leave you. Not again."

Hermione reached up and grasped her ring that hung from Killian's necklace. A mark. A reminder. A memory.

"This is not about us," she said as her fingers caressed the chain. "Not this time."

Killian closed his eyes. Hermione knew what he was thinking. She knew that he was cursing this life, cruel and unfair, just as she was. She knew that he was being torn apart inside. She wanted to stop the hurt, to make it go away, but nothing in existence could remedy such pain. She had felt it herself. She was feeling it again.

"Everything all right?" came Harry's voice.

Killian and Hermione stepped back from each other and saw Harry, Draco, Altimus, and Wraith standing just outside the Hog's Head. Killian took a deep breath, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

"Draven Aurelius is no longer safe," he explained.

"Oh," Altimus said with a grimace. "Not good."

"What?" Harry asked. "Draven Aurelius is alive?"

"There is no time to explain," Killian answered. "I'm leaving for Froggenhall. In time, I may need assistance. Assistance best left unaware by the Ministry. Can I count on you?"

"Of course," Harry answered without hesitation. "I'm insulted you'd even ask."

"Things may get a bit complicated," Killian said. "I didn't want to assume."

"So, are we off to Froggenhall then?" Altimus asked.

"No," Killian said. "I need you and Wraith to scout around. Find out how far this information has spread. Find out who knows and how much they know." Killian turned to Master Kinelli. "Where will they be taking Draven?"

"Kalin Moore has always been a friend of the Order," Master Kinelli answered. "I am certain we will find sanctuary with him."

"Kuulic is back with your family," Killian said to Draco. "Tell him I will need his assistance once again. Send him to Castle Moore and instruct him to await my arrival."

"Done," Draco assured.

A moment later, Altimus and Wraith Disapparated without a word. That was the way of the Triad. Once a task was at hand, there was no hesitation. Killian turned back to Hermione, opening his mouth to speak, but unable to find the words. Hermione pulled him close, embracing him once again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as his breath caressed her neck.

Hermione could feel the proud and arrogant Slytherin's very soul crumbling to pieces before her.

"Promise that you will return to me," she whispered.

"I will always return to you," Killian vowed as his mouth slid across her face and kissed her softly on the lips.

With a final embrace, they relinquished each other. Killian straightened up and turned to Master Kinelli.

"Who's in Froggenhall?" he asked.

"The Teagues and the Buckleys have already arrived at Farr's Inn," Master Kinelli answered. "Master Odem is en route with Draven and the Buckley boy as we speak. They should be arriving shortly."

"Are we expecting anyone else?" Killian asked.

"None that I am aware of," Master Kinelli answered.

"Send word that I'm on my way," Killian said.

Master Kinelli smiled with a nod of his head. "My pleasure."

A second later, the luminous image of Master Kinelli faded away. Killian looked at Hermione. Again, his eyes gave him away. He was torn. He was hurting. A moment later, he was gone in a wisp of smoke that quickly vanished in the breeze.

Harry walked over to Hermione and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"What am I going to do, Harry?" she asked as she stared at the ground.

"Let's not worry about that now," Harry answered.

"I'm sorry that I've put you in this position," Hermione apologized, looking up at Harry. "Ron's your best friend and I've … I've ..."

"He is," Harry admitted. "And so are you. But you can't argue with your heart. It's a pointless endeavor. Of course, our holiday just became a bit more uncomfortable, didn't it?"

Hermione closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip and sighing. With everything that had happened, meeting up with the Ron, Ginny, the children, and the Weasleys would be far more than uncomfortable.

"Don't worry." Harry smiled, sensing Hermione's panic. "We won't speak of this. Not until you've gotten it sorted out. Besides," he went on, "it seems as though we have other concerns at the moment."

Hermione looked at Harry and Draco. Aside from herself, they were the only ones within the Ministry that knew of Draven's survival. Harry and Draco. Who would have ever guessed?

"We're not exactly the Golden Trio, are we?" Hermione mused.

"Listen, if you two are going to be coming up with cute little names for us, I swear I'll jinx the both of you right here," Draco warned.

"Don't worry." Harry laughed. "We'll keep it to a minimum."

"Let's just get out of here before I vomit," Draco dismissed.

"Right," Harry agreed as they began down the path leading out of Hogsmeade. "So Draven Aurelius is alive, eh?"

"First I heard of it," Draco said with a bit of spite. "No one tells me anything."

"I know the feeling," Hermione said with halfhearted smile.

With that, Hermione, Harry, and Draco left Hogsmeade. The world had changed. It was changing again. There were new enemies and strange allies. But amidst the uncertainties that lie ahead, Hermione felt a comfort. In all the years that had passed, he had never forgotten her, never stopped loving her. She now knew that no matter what, their inseverable fates would always bring them back together.

_Always._

_... the end  
_

_... to be continued_

_up next ... an excerpt from Legends of Voldavia - Myths & Prophecies ..._


	12. Excerpt LoV Froggenhall

_Finally, at long last, it is here ... Legends of Voldavia - Myths & Prophecies has been published and released in e-book format. It is currently exclusive to Amazon, but that may change in the future. My understanding is that if you have any sort of Kindle, Mac, PC, or tablet/phone with the Kindle app you will be able to buy and download the e-book._

_But before I go on, I should probably backtrack a bit. Legends of Voldavia is an original series that I first wrote when I was around 12 years old. It is also the world where Killian, Wraith, Altimus, Lord Mideus, Tanzar, Tiberius Mourdim, Master Kinelli and many other of my own characters originated from. I have since rewritten the story in a more proper fashion (believe it or not, at 12 I was not the best of writers ;) ) and it has now been published._

_Fear not, however, about Hermione and Killian's story. It is not at an end. Henceforth, it is simply going to take place within Voldavian canon, much like it previously took place within Harry Potter canon. In fact, book 1 of the series takes place just as Inseverable Fates comes to an end. Quite literally, in fact. _

_The following excerpt is from a chapter entitled Froggenhall. It takes place seconds after Killian leaves Hermione in front of the Hog's Head. It is not quite the beginning of the chapter, but I thought it fitting since it transitions right from the end of Inseverable Fates._

_Of note, there is a certain suspension of disbelief that needs to be taken when connecting the fanfics to this new series. This is because Voldavia is an entirely different world. So it has become somewhat of a crossover series, I suppose. Voldavia is a mixture of technological, magical, medieval, and modern settings. Sort of a quagmire in that respect. _

_The following excerpt takes place as the protagonist Draven Aurelius, his best friend Hyaat, and a talking panda named Ghalleon (yes, there is a talking panda ... but it works, I promise you) are heading to a safe house in the small town of Froggenhall. For those who have read all of the fanfics, you may recognize said safe house ... as well as many other nods to the fanfics that appear throughout the book._

_So without further adieu ..._

_All legal and illegal ... wait, nevermind ... I actually don't have to use a disclaimer on this one :)_

_Froggenhall_

_..._

_.._

_._

Froggenhall was structured similarly to Three Hills in the sense that everything veined from its center with a main road leading in and out. However, where Three Hills was built around the town square, Froggenhall's center contained a large stone archway with no apparent purpose. The archway was as tall as a house, rudimentarily carved from black stone, and did not seem particularly ornate or functional. It was nothing more than a simple stone archway, overgrown with vines and other vegetative debris from years of neglect.

As Draven examined the arch, a hulking figure emerged from the shadows and trudged toward them, waving a lantern and shouting, "Hold where you are!"

The three stood their ground, awaiting their greeter. He was a large, surly man with a stomach as broad as his shoulders. His full red beard dripped from catching raindrops. He stopped in front of them, holding his lantern high to illuminate the area as he crossly examined the boys and their furry companion.

"From whence do you come?" he grumbled.

"From the, uh …" Ghalleon stuttered as he shielded his eyes from the light. "… halls of Artimus Tempus."

"I am sure that you do not, beast!" the stranger growled, pushing his lantern into Ghalleon's face. "Where did you get the pass?"

Hyaat stepped between the man and Ghalleon, slapping the lantern away. "Back off!"

"Mind your tongue boy!" the man roared back at Hyaat, who recoiled in defense.

"That will be enough, Waldrom," came a stern voice from the direction of the stone archway.

Draven spun around in time to see a wisp of smoke fade away, replaced by a tall, thin man wearing a black leather longcoat and boots crossed with straps and brushed metal buckles. His hands were covered with fingerless leather gauntlets, weathered and worn. Over his shoulder, he sheathed a short, smooth, ebony staff topped with a bird's talon clutching a silver orb. His hair was dark, fine, and shoulder length. His face was smooth with brilliantly green piercing eyes, defined features, and a deadpan expression. Everything about the man seemed dark and uninviting.

"Master Finn?" The burly man, now known to be Waldrom, bowed slightly and backed away. "My apologies. I was waiting as instructed when I saw these three. They have the pass."

"Which I am certain they received from Master Odem," Master Finn asserted.

"I didn't know." Waldrom turned to Hyaat and Draven with a deep look of regret. "I was told to meet someone, they didn't tell me who."

"Don't apologize to me." Hyaat gestured to Ghalleon. "You called him a beast."

"My apologies," Waldrom offered to Ghalleon.

Ghalleon shrugged it off as Falkirk swooped down and landed on his shoulder, startling Waldrom. He quickly collected himself and looked about. "And where is Master Odem?"

"Master Odem is not a concern at the moment," Finn answered in a distant and uncaring tone.

Waldrom bowed again. "Of course."

Draven was actually glad that the subject was not being addressed. The event still burned in his memory, a painful reminder of the effects of his actions. Luckily, there was no time for further inquiry as another wisp of smoke marked the entrance of a portly older man with a round face, stubby beard, and plump rosy cheeks.

The new arrival approached the group, limping and relying heavily on his simple oak staff for support. "Party is all here then?"

"Master Dollus," Waldrom greeted.

Master Dollus nodded at Waldrom and smiled at Master Finn. "Killian. Good to see you."

"Phineas," Master Finn responded coldly.

Master Dollus approached Draven, his eyes wide with excitement and anticipation. Up close, Draven could see that Master Dollus was much older and more weathered than Master Finn. However, as aloof and unfriendly as Master Finn had been, Master Dollus appeared warm and amiable. As the jolly old man placed his hand on Draven's shoulder and looked him in the eyes, Draven felt a sense of relief.

"So this is the son of Daniel," Dollus said with a broad smile.

This was the second time Draven heard this phrase and still it meant nothing. This time, however, upon the utterance of these words, Master Finn's eyes pierced Draven with an icy glare that sent chills down his spine.

"Son of Daniel?" Waldrom questioned. "Daniel Aurelius?"

"So it appears," Finn answered, his eyes bouncing between Draven and Dollus.

Dollus straightened up and turned to Finn. "Shall we go then?"

Finn stepped aside and gestured with an open arm toward the road. "After you."

Dollus turned to Waldrom, who led the party toward Farr's Inn at the other end of Froggenhall's main road.

"Who's Daniel Aurelius?" Hyaat whispered to Draven.

Draven shrugged. "No idea."

Hyaat nudged Draven in the ribs and smiled. "Hey, maybe he's rich."

. . .

Farr's Inn was as desolate as the rest of Froggenhall. The tattered sign above the door still bore the name of the Inn's proprietor, Waldrom Farr. The dreary party of six, now soaked and muddy from the trek, approached the front door. Waldrom knocked soundly. A spy hole slid open and a set of eyes glared out at them.

"It's me, Muriel," Waldrom announced. "I've got 'em."

"Who was it then?" Muriel asked, as the lock clicked. The door swung inward to reveal a simple-looking woman wearing an apron and wringing a dishtowel nervously in her hands.

"The son of Daniel Aurelius," Waldrom whispered hoarsely, stepping aside and presenting Draven as if he were some form of trophy.

"Blind me where I stand!" Muriel gasped as she backed up. Wringing her towel tighter, she allowed the waterlogged travelers to enter. "How?"

The elder Master Dollus laughed as he shook off the rain and made his way to a chair by the fire. "All in good time, madam." He looked to Master Finn and winked. "Place brings back some memories, eh?"

Master Finn offered no response. Waldrom seemed uncomfortable with the remark, laughing it off as the others shuffled inside.

"It was a long time ago," he dismissed. "Ancient history."

The interior of the Inn was more inviting than its exterior. A long sofa and several chairs were set beside the hearth, by which fires Master Dollus was now warming his feet. Simple paintings of the country and previous owners of the Inn hung along the walls. In the corner, several unset tables were scattered around a dusty bar. Although in need of a good repair, the old Inn actually appeared quite comfortable.

"Are they here?" came a frantic and familiar voice from the doorway leading to the kitchen.

Draven's heart raced as Mrs. Teague came into the room. Rushing over to Draven, she threw her arms around him, nearly squeezing out his last bit of breath.

"Oh, you're safe!" She reached out and pulled Hyaat into her bearish hug. "Thank the Goddess, you're safe. Aeris! The boys are here!"

Mrs. Buckley slowly descended the stairs with arms folded. Her eyes narrowed with disapproval, very effectively communicating her thoughts.

"C'mon, Mom," Hyaat whined. "Mrs. Teague at least gave us a hug."

Shaking her head, Mrs. Buckley walked over to Hyaat and threw her arms around him. "You're a bloody fool."

"I know," Hyaat conceded.

"Both of you," Mrs. Buckley added as she glanced between the boys.

Draven thought about defending himself but quickly dismissed the notion. "How did you know we were coming here?"

"There will be time for that," Mrs. Teague answered. "First, upstairs with you and get some fresh dry clothes. We'll get you warm and fed. Worry about the rest later."

Mrs. Teague shooed the boys up the stairs. As they headed up, Draven saw Ghalleon curled up in a ball next to the fire as Muriel rubbed him down with a dry towel.

After Draven and Hyaat got themselves dried and changed, they made their way back down to the main room where the adults, minus Master Finn, were engaged in light conversation. Master Finn stood alone by the fireplace staring at the fiery spears as they leapt and danced in the hearth. While his eyes fixated on the crackling embers, his fingers caressed a small silver ring hanging from a chain around his neck. It was a simple ring. Not one that Draven thought would likely fit on any of Master Finn's fingers. Draven's curiosity was quickly cast away, however, when he noticed Mr. Teague amongst those in the room.

...

..

.

_up next ... Crimson Midnight ... the fanfic that takes place after Book One of the Voldavian series ..._

_I apologize that the excerpt is so short. Alas, I fear that any more would give away too much ... particularly any more from this chapter. _

_I want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, and otherwise supported me throughout this adventure I call storytelling. I live to write, and I write for you. Because without you, the readers, I would be pointless. _

_I hope that the above excerpt intrigues you enough to give my Voldavian series a try (go to Amazon and search for "Legends of Voldavia Kindle") For those who do, and enjoy the story, I hope that you will leave a review on Amazon and/or "like" the Legends of Voldavia Facebook page. Although I am not against getting a review via PM either ;)_

_Most of all, I hope that any who decide to take a chance on the series will also help to spread the word. We "unknown authors" can use all the help we can get ;)_

_Again, I thank you all for everything you have done for me. Every hit to my stories, every review that was sent, inspired and motivated me to chase a dream I once nearly abandoned ..._


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